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#just a quick little light study but i like it
pokestudentjune · 3 days
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Hello all! My name is June (she/her) and I am a university student from Hoenn, majoring in pokemon biology and horticulture! I'm currently traveling in order to gain as much knowledge as possible thanks to a scholarship from my uni. I hope to maybe make it as a pokemon professor-- and if not, perhaps open up my own plant + grass type conservatory!
In all honesty I'm pretty new to this whole rotomblr stuff, and I'm not all to osure how to work it that well.. But I'd still like someplace to document my life and experiences, as well as share my knowledge about pokemon and plants! Got plenty of cute pics of my pokemon and the ones I meet as well! Please feel free to reach out with asks about myself, my pokemon, or anything in general-- I'll do my best to answer to the best of my ability :)
Here is my current travel team!
Lotus the Ivsaur
Modest, highly persistent. A water lotus variant Ivysaur with a water/grass typing, and practically my soulmate. My first officially owned pokemon, gotten from my grandmothers venusaur as a child. Lotus has grown and matured with me through the years, and is always looking out for me! Shes trained in battle and performance, but we have since retired from coordinating and she'd rather sit back and experience life as it comes.
Scout the Lopunny
Sassy, likes to fight. One of my first wild-caught pokemon, and both me and Lotus's best friend. Shes quite a fan of my more feminine interests, often asking to share my clothes and music. Shes definitely one of my more battle + performance savvy pokemon, and we're working on learning mega evolution together! She wears a light blue letterman jacket I bought for her once, she wanted to dress similarly to an idol group we saw online once!
Grim the Joltik
Jolly, very finicky. Another pokemon caught when I was younger, he is literally the sweetest little baby ever. He was an unexpected capture, having hopped onto my phone one day and refusing to leave. He loves to suck out the battery life from practically my devices which drives me insane, but I wouldnt trade him for the world. Despite being small for the past few years, I think he doesnt want to evolve which is fine by me! I think he enjoys riding on my head or shoulder.
Jasper the Typhlosion
Rash, quick to fight. A large, bulky, fluffy, shiny typhlosion with a scar across his muzzle. Rescued from a "backyard zoo" situation, it took a long long time to fully gain his trust, but it was worth it. Hes very standoffish but protective of me and the team. Lotus was a big help in calming him during the beginning, and now he enjoys battling to blow off some steam.
Harlequin the Banette
Quirky, impetuous and silly. Perhaps my first ever pokemon friend. We met when I was a small child and he was still a shuppet. Its a bit of a long story, but he stuck through with me during some negative times within my early years even as a wild pokemon, and would frequently visit to keep me entertained through the years. I didn't catch him for many years, but one day after being a trainer for a while, I asked him if he'd like to join my team and has stuck around since. He wears a chunky bandana on his neck thats practically the size of him.
Jade the Noivern
Adamant, alert to sounds. One of the newer additions to the group, i had caught her within a cave and she showed fighting spirit right off the bat. I took the time to train her in between my studies and she evolved into a speed demon. She absolutely LOVES flying and I myself had always wanted to ride on a flying pokemons back, so its a win-win. She looks up to Jasper, and they often spar together.
I have plenty of other pokemon back at home that I'll introduce when the time comes, but these are the ones I think are best suited to help me during my studies! Perhaps I'll switch around the team, maybe I wont. It takes a while to transfer pokemon across regions but who knows where life will take me!
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// OOC
Hello hello! Just like June, I am very unfamilliar with tumblr as its been years since I last used it, but I've been religiously stalking rotomblr for years now and i figured its my time to make a blog! Heres a few things about how I'll be running this blog :3
• This will be a mix of anime and game, keeping it semi realistic as I love biology and science but still want to keep some magic from the pokemon games included!
• June is basically a self insert so no weird stuff!
•For Junes universe, fakemon, sentient pokemon, or pokemon/human hybrids or anything similar to that doesnt exist-- again, I'm keeping it a bit semi realistic. Pokemon crossbreeds are fine though!
• This is very casual!! Just for fun slice of life blog :3
• In this world, legendaries are gods and greatly affect the environment, so June may not interact with those who "own" legendaries because she greatly frowns upon messing with the natural order of things.
• Feel free to dm me or send me asks ! I'd love to get to know the community more :)
• Also i might not do many fully pieces and more colored sketches because I am very busy irl unfortunately
• Im okay with interactions from other OCs and canon characters !
If you want to see my art look at #june pics ! working on tags for informational stuff but #june talks will have some fun pokemon info + junes story so far!
• Pelliper Mail is : OPEN
• Magic Anon is : CLOSED
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maroon-cardigan · 6 hours
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𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑 | part V.
an enemies to lovers prince!steve harrington x princess!fem!reader mini series | a kingdom au
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index | part IV
summary: a promise between you and steve might bring hope and justice for the subjects, but in order to become the rulers you both wish to be, you and the prince must break each other's heart. sacrifices are made, lies are told and a wedding takes place.
word count: 10k
warnings: angst, (so much of it) a few plot twists (oops!). this series and my blog are +18, minors do not interact.
masterlist | ko-fi | playlist
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𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒
Steve supressed a sigh as he walked through the corridor, preparing himself for another long day of discussing kingdom matters with his father, when someone pulled him from his side.
‘What are you doing?’ He asked as soon as he saw your face, covered by the shadows of the stone wall next to you.
You were wearing your cloak on top of your gown, a light thing that lacked the luxury of your other dresses, the perfumed smell of flowers surrounding him. There was no tiara or jewels on your head, instead, your unembellished brushed hair fell on your shoulders and back.
‘What are you doing today?’ You asked then, eyes curious as they studied the prince’s face. He looked like he had slept a bit better, the circles under his eyes a bit smoother.
‘I…’ He didn’t want to admit he didn’t know. ‘Some fencing training, I guess. Council meeting in two hours, then staying there for as long as I can… Why are you up so early?’
‘Because everyone’s going to start looking for me as soon as they wake up.’ You said with an annoyed tone. ‘We get married tomorrow, remember?’
‘Sadly, I do.’ Your lips lifted subtly in a smile as you rolled your pretty eyes at him.
He let out a low chuckle at it, that turned into a serious semblance when he realised how close you were. His eyes lingered on the curve of your eyebrow and the line that went from your temple to your cheek. He almost lifted his hand to brush his thumb against it when you spoke again.
‘Let’s go to the city.’
‘What?’
You nodded enthusiastically. ‘Let’s go to the city today. Let’s leave now.’
‘Violet, are you out your mind?’ He frowned, fingers finding his freshly brushed hair to turn it into a mess of brown locks. ‘I have responsibilities here.’
‘Your father has responsibilities here.’ You said with that direct, knife-twisting tone of yours. ‘Let’s actually do something useful that doesn’t involve sitting in a room full of councilmen or deciding between a bouquet of lilies or roses.’
Steve knew you had a point, but he still shook his head slightly, letting out a deep sigh. ‘My father expects me to be there.’
‘You’re going to have to stop following your father’s orders eventually.’ Your eyes were piercing as you gave him that unrequited advice that reminded him so much of the stubbornness of your childhood. But he didn’t feel angry at you anymore, not like he did when he was younger. ‘What are you going to do when you actually become a king? Wait for me to order you around?’  
He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at your words.
‘You’re so full of yourself, princess.’ He smiled then; brown eyes lighting up as they looked down at you. ‘How are we going to get there without being noticed?’
You smiled victoriously, biting the inside of your cheek because of how excited you suddenly felt. ‘I know exactly how.’
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‘Is this how is going to be for now on?’ Eddie asked, holding your hand as you walked down the little step of the carriage. ‘You two get ideas and I just follow you?’
‘Possibly.’ Said Steve as he walked down right after you.
You turned your head to Eddie and shook your head.
‘Only if they come from me.’
Eddie stole a quick glance at Steve, who rolled his eyes at you for the third time today. He almost smiled at you then, until he started noticing the curious eyes of some subjects who were in the street that morning. You saw the way he lowered his gaze and swallowed hard before you took a deep breath in and stood next to him.
Your touch felt familiar when your hand wrapped around his arm, but he thought he’d never get used to it.
‘Come on.’ Your tone was a command in a way, but a subtle one. He knew what he had gotten into when he decided to skip the meeting and join you in the city today, and now he had to face it.
It’s the princess, you heard them whisper. Most of them looked at you with curiosity, to what you’d answer with polite nods and subtle smiles. There was too much you still needed to learn in terms of manners and traditions. But you were trying.
‘Your kingdom is really beautiful.’ You broke the silence you shared as you started walking along the main street with Eddie a few steps behind you. You admired the cute little half-timbered houses and their windows that the subjects opened for the spring breeze to sneak in.
Steve kept his eyes on you, thinking about how you still thought of it as his kingdom. And he understood why, but something inside him made him wonder if you would ever see it as anything more than that. As your kingdom. And maybe one day, if he was lucky enough, as your home.
He smiled subtly.  ‘I could tell you a bunch of random facts about it, but I wouldn’t want to bore you.’
‘What makes you think I don’t know the random facts already?’ You turned your head to face him, your chin almost touching his shoulder as you smiled with an arched brow. You were unbearably adorable, looking up at him like a mischievous child who knew they’d get caught without any consequences.
The memory of you in his chamber came back to him, how close he had been to kiss you and how quick things had gone downhill after that. He opened his mouth to say something, but the nerves only made him let out a breathy laugh.
His lack of reciprocity turned you shy then, and you turned your eyes in front of you, licking your lips to hide the embarrassment.
You stayed silent, focused on the sound of the city. Steps on cobblestones, the distant noise of horses walking, kids screaming, crying, laughing.
You narrowed your eyes when you noticed the childish noises came from a stone building with big wooden doors. Not just kids, there were adult voices coming out of it too, people chatting, the clacking of metal.
‘Violet.’ Steve called you when you untangled the hand around his arm and grabbed your dress on your fists to climb the steps to the door.
You ignored him, reaching the entrance to have a look at what was inside. At first, no one looked at you while you observed the scene of tables placed along the room and people sitting on them, eating together. A dining hall.
But the eyes slowly started to land on you, kids and adults alike. Curious, intrigued, expectant. Some of them bowed when you finally walked in, but not all of them. Many didn’t.
You weren’t scared, still hearing the noise of Eddie’s familiar armour behind you, but you knew you needed to be careful.
You turned your head back when their eyes landed on something beyond your shoulder.
Steve stood behind you on the entrance, posture tense and eyes expectant as he walked in. Your fingers brushed his, hesitant. And he swallowed hard at the feeling of it while he looked at his people, at his kingdom, at the future. Your future.
‘Prince Steve.’ An old man stood up on the other side of the hall, looking at the young prince with disdain. ‘What can I do for you?’
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Steve nodded at what the old man was saying, a hand on his chin as he listened attentively. His name was Hugh, and he had established the public dining hall for the people of the community who couldn’t afford eating. The dining hall was run by everyone, bringing the freshly ingredients on the evening and the women – mothers, daughters and widows cooked overnight. 
You listened while sitting next to Steve, feeling the way his knee moved repeatedly next to yours, the lightweight fabric of your dress trembling as a result. His hair was a mess after all the times he had ran his fingers through it in the last hour, but you couldn’t keep your eyes on it as you wished, because the atrocities the old man narrated kept you from doing so.
People were suffering. It was more than just starving and struggling, they were leaving. They had no other option after spending so many years under seize and then having soldiers come back to find there was not enough food or water, or enough mothers for all the orphaned kids.
The subjects felt the king had locked himself behind the walls of the castle during the war, and they expected Steve to do the same thing now that he was back. They had a right to be resentful. But now he was here. And he was listening with you by his side. Things could change, he thought. Now he thought they really could.
He was lost in his thoughts when you were back outside again, brown eyes studying the cobblestones while you walked next to him. Your cloak was now falling on your back and not covering your dress anymore. It was still sunny, and you didn’t want to go back to the chaos of planning the ceremony. Specially not after the conversation you had witnessed, now it felt too absurd to spend that much money on a wedding for two people who didn’t even love each other.
Steve saw the way you took your hand to your mouth as you got lost on your thoughts too. You had reached a blind alley where an old, imposing building stood in front of you. You didn’t realise he was staring until you looked at him and your mouth opened partly to ask a question that you forgot as soon as you noticed his brown pupils hiding under heavy eyelids. He seemed so tired. He seemed like he needed to talk.
‘It’s the old church.’ He explained.
You turned your head towards the building, nodding to hide the fact you were suddenly nervous, feeling the back of your neck turn sweaty.
He started climbing the steps and you looked behind your shoulder to ask Eddie for some privacy. But he was already many steps away from you, leaning against a column with his arms crossed.
‘Go.’ He silently mouthed.
Your cheeks flushed as you turned to climb the stairs behind the prince.
Steve was right. The old church was just a building taking space in a city that needed more. More money, more houses, more people. It seemed that it had been looted at some point, either by the crown taking the valuable things back or people stealing them. It didn’t matter. Everything was covered by dust, the only source of light was the sun sneaking through its stained-glass windows, drawing colourful patterns on the floor. The rest of the room was showered in a dull shade of blue.
You sat next to him on the front bench. There were no candles or an altar in front of you, just some grey stone steps that led to an empty wall.
He couldn’t help but take a deep inhale as your flowery perfume surrounded him.
‘That was… very necessary. Thank you.’ His voice echoed through the walls when he spoke.
Your hands laid on your lap as you sat straight. ‘I’m sorry about what he said about your father.’
You knew it hadn’t been easy for him.
Steve shook his head subtly, a bitter smile you now knew so well on his lips. ‘They’re right, and he should listen to them too. They’re his subjects as much as they’re mine. He’s failing them.’
You agreed in silence. Silence that was becoming more and more comfortable with the passing of days.
‘I was thinking about something.’ It was almost a whisper, but you heard him perfectly. Your shoulder was once again brushing his like in the library, close enough you could feel the warmth underneath.
‘Tell me.’
His eyes lifted then. Your tone was firm, as if you were actually interested in what he had to say.
‘We could… uh,’ He cleared his throat before he could sit more comfortably so he could face you, placing his elbow on the back of the bench. ‘We could choose one citizen to represent the subjects in the council. Maybe even one representative per community.’ His hands moved as he explained his idea enthusiastically, one of them running through his locks once again. ‘I– I don’t know if my father would agree. But maybe you could… Maybe you could help me.’
Your eyebrows arched at his words, you were suddenly warm under your lightweight dress, lips cold and hands sweaty. ‘Me?’
‘Yeah. You did all those things back in your kingdom, Violet. You forced them to let you replace your father in the council, you built the school and the temples, and people were grateful to you for it. You– you do things. You make things happen. This kingdom needs that.’
I need that, he thought.
You nodded then; eyes serious studying your hands before you lifted them to look back at him. He knew it, he was certain you were about to make a joke, by the way your eyes cheekily lit up, betraying you before you could even speak.
‘You don’t need to ask me to be stubborn about things. You know that, right?’
And he laughed. A low-pitched chesty noise that made you bite the skin inside your cheek to keep you from smiling.
Silence fell on you two again, and his eyes turned serious as you studied him.
‘I can’t repeat the same mistakes as my father.’ He said, and you could see in his brown exhausted irises that this thought troubled him more than he would admit. His voice turned even lower when he bent slightly towards you. ‘Please, don’t let me repeat the same mistakes.’
You shook your head then. A sad, understanding smile on your lips.
‘We’re rulers, Steve.’ You said, and he admired the confidence you said it with, as if you trusted him. ‘We’ll do whatever it takes. The marriage, the strategies, the sacrifices. Whatever it takes.’
It was a promise.
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Your mother was hysterical. Worse than that, your mother and Steve’s mother were hysterical when you came back to the castle in the afternoon.
‘You were supposed to try you dress on!’ Queen Agnes said before even saying hello to you.
‘And choose the flowers for the bouquet!’ Said Queen Yvette as one of the maids removed your cloak.
You gave Steve a knowing look as his mother’s words echoed what you told him that morning, and he couldn’t help but smile. He was leaning against a column with his arms crossed, observing the Queens’ excitement about the ceremony, too enthusiastic to even get mad at you.
‘The prince was showing me the kingdom.’ You explained simply before placing your hands on your mother’s shoulders. ‘Now I’m here and I’m all yours. Where’s Father?’
‘No.’ she said then, pinching your chin with between her index finger and her thumb. ‘You’re not going to your father now, or we’ll lose more time.’
‘But what about Greg? And Theo?’ You were almost pouting as you teased your mother. Steve thought it was adorable, his eyes taking in the beautiful sight of your hair falling down your back and your eyes sparkling with childish fun.
He almost hoped you could enjoy some of this.
‘Let’s go, let’s go.’ Insisted Queen Yvette as she urged you to follow your mother.
You looked back at him then, bowing clumsily on purpose. ‘My lord.’
He laughed like a child at your foolishness, slightly bending in front of you. ‘M’ lady.’
‘Let’s go, Violet.’ Your mother lightly pushed your back as you lowered your eyes, letting yourself be guided, mentally preparing yourself to be dressed up like a doll.
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You didn’t see him until dinner. King Talbot and Queen Yvette had organised a ball specially for your parents and the members of the court in an attempt to show the kingdom still remained strong after the war.
You had to bite your tongue after what you had witnessed that morning, though. So, you were back at wearing your gowns, lilac fabric entwined with golden threads hugging your body. Steve’s mother had insisted you’d wear her pearl tiara from when she was young, and you accepted without complaining, looking at the way her eyes slightly watered when the maid opened the wooden box that held the piece of jewellery in front of you. Everyone around you was so happy and you thought maybe you’d eventually feel the same. If you tried hard enough.
‘There you are!’ Gregory and Theodore held you in their arms as soon as they saw you speaking to Nancy on the other side of the great hall.
You wished you could almost stay in their arms, feeling that they broke the hug too soon. You listened attentively to their news from home while internally scolding yourself. The war was over, your family was alive. You were getting married.  You should’ve been happy.
You were getting married.
When Steve crossed the big doors of the great hall, wearing his purple vest and lifting his eyebrows as he smiled at his friends from the court, that’s when you knew. It was all too much. The way he seemed to light up the room, making everyone’s body language change with his presence, his charisma, and his stories from the war. Prince Steve. King Steve. For the first time in years, you felt invisible. And that should’ve been a good thing. But as he walked inside, acknowledging people and nodding to some of the guests, you felt as if you had a piece of glass stuck underneath your skin, cutting deeper with every beat of your heart.
You gave your wine glass to a man holding a tray next to you and held your dress on your fists as you started walking in the opposite direction before he even could land his eyes on you.
You were in need of some fresh air, leaning against the mahogany wall of the hallway outside, the ghostly noise of the ball behind the doors breaking the silence.
Your eyes lifted lazily when Eddie walked out of the hall to find you, a glass of wine in his hand and his armour replaced by a formal attire for the occasion.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey.’ You said with a subtle smile. His eyes narrowed for a second as he observed the quiet empty hallway, asking a silent question. ‘I needed to be invisible for a while.’
‘Right.’ He leaned on the wall opposite to you, next to an old portrait you assumed was from one of Steve’s relatives.
The silence was comfortable, only the low human sound of the party and your rhythmic breaths. You could feel him searching for your eyes and the worries behind them. He could imagine all the things that must have been tormenting you.
‘Remind me again how long have I been engaged for?’ You whispered in the dark.
‘Six years.’
Your lips turned into a line as you looked down at your gown for a second, a thoughtful frown adorning your face as your friend tried to read you.
‘Why does it feel like I’ll never get used to it?’ You let out a bitter laugh, trying to keep your eyes from watering. ‘And I get married tomorrow. Isn’t that stupid?’
‘I think you’re allowed to feel lost, Vee.’ He said shrugging. ‘I mean I saw what you two did today at the city. That was great. You can do great things together; you’re already doing them. Isn’t what this whole thing is about?’
You nodded, letting out a sigh as your eyes got lost on the pattern of the rug under your feet.
Maybe love was not something for people like you and Steve. Maybe the closest thing you would ever share was duty. A word you had to learn to understand and live by. And one that would have to be enough for you.
But why did it feel like it wasn’t?
‘You might be right.’ You admitted with a sad smile. ‘But enough about me. How are you finding the castle? Do you hate me for dragging you here?’
Eddie laughed as he took a sip of his wine.
‘I could never hate you. You’re my best friend.’
You smiled widely then, thinking about the curly haired teenager that didn’t judge you the first time you lifted a bow and an arrow. Once upon a time, when life was gentle, and childhood was full of possibilities.
You opened your mouth to say something, but the chatting of the ball eclipsed your voice when the doors opened.
Steve took a glance at you, and then at Eddie, smiling subtly. Your friend straightened his posture then, bowing at you two before heading back to the ball, your eyes never leaving him to avoid looking at the prince in front of you.
His partly illuminated face turned to you. He had shaved, soft skin making him look younger. His hair was brushed for once, brown locks turning reddish under the lights of the great hall sneaking into the hallway. By this time tomorrow, he would be your husband, and the thought was so painfully scary your eyes almost turned glossy again.
‘I was wondering,’ he said then, ‘If could have the next dance?’
You felt the pulse on your ears as he waited, expectant. He could see you hesitate, thinking maybe this had been a stupid idea, having read it all wrong after the friendliness you had shown that morning.
‘I–,’ You swallowed; hands straightening the front of your dress as a nervous response. ‘I thought that was compulsory.’
He shook his head once, a firm gesture as he studied you. ‘It never was.’
You looked at him then, stare shy but certain as you nodded with those deer eyes he had grown to hate more than any other frustrating trait of yours. 
‘You may.’
His hand was warm against yours when he led you to the ballroom. You internally cursed yourself for saying yes, as it had been years since you had been to a ball, let alone dance with a partner. But hadn’t he been on the battlefield for most of that time too? Still, it made you nervous, your hands shaky on your side as you walked in.
One of his hands found your back, gently pushing you towards him while he held your hand in the air with the other one. The gesture was so confident it made you gasp, your mouth partly opened as your eyes found his.
Was there a darkness in them he had never seen?
It took him back to that day in the chambers of your castle when your body was so close to his as he whispered in your ear. Your reaction made him forget himself, not guiding you for the first few seconds of the song, distracted by your lips.
He took the first step towards you, softly guiding you without taking his eyes off yours. Steve repressed his smile the best he could as you two started swinging gracefully around the ballroom. It was almost funny, how you two had managed not to mess up in the first minute of the song, and he could see the warmth in your eyes too, as the violins kept playing in the background. He slowly felt you relax to his touch, elbow falling naturally as the sweet curve that led from your wrist to your thumb fitted in the hollow middle of his palm.
Your other hand adjusted itself on his shoulder, thumb almost touching the space where the fabric of his collar and the skin of his neck met. You had to look away, down to the patterns of his vest as you felt the heat rushing to your cheeks.
His eyes turned soft at the change of your gaze. He searched for answers in them while you both took a step back, then one forward, getting unbearably close. The room turned to nothing, and his eyes could only focus on the way your eyebrows almost met in the middle. There was no childish complicity in them anymore, something else, something serious seemed to be overflowing from them, drowning you.
It was a moment of absolute terror, when you realised how starved you had been your whole life. Never letting anyone, especially not him, see how much you craved tenderness, warmth, proximity. The certainty of someone’s company.
He tilted his head at the way your eyes had suddenly turned glossy, a few strands of hair falling on his forehead.
‘What’s wrong?’ He whispered.
You were shaking your head repeatedly, but subtly enough so no one around you noticed. It turned worse, much worse when his thumb brushed against your cheek, a barely there touch that burned like hot iron against a tongue, a gesture too public and yet as necessary as oxygen as it all fell down on you.
It was a moment of absolute terror, realising you were in love with the person you were supposed to be in love with, and that you had no idea what to do about it.
‘I lost the pace.’ You whispered back. But the song was over then, and you had blinked enough times for your tears to go away.
Your body disentangled from his slowly, looking up at him as you did. Steve’s arms stood in the air a second too long before they rested on his sides, almost as if he hoped you to regret your actions and fill the emptiness again. To come back to where you belonged.
He frowned at the way your smile didn’t reach your eyes as you bowed. ‘Thank you, my lord.’
‘Vee.’
‘Yes?’ Your tone was almost urgent, lightheaded by the way your heart felt too big for your chest, endless beats echoing like the buzz of a bumblebee.
Steve licked his lips, trying to find the words. Words that didn’t seem to come. You had been a ghost in the battlefield. You had been a memory, a possibility, for too long. Now you were here, soft skin as tangible as life and as certain as death. And he didn’t know what to do with you.
He didn’t know.
A second of silence turned into to two, and three, and four. Nothing.
You played with your hands, looking around you before your eyes landed on his again.
‘I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.’ You tried to joke with a fake smile.
He nodded nervously, soft eyes asking you to stay. He hoped you realised he was asking you to stay.
But you bowed and turned around, getting lost in between the multitude as your big proud heart broke inside your chest.
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He looked up at your window as Argyle and Jonathan laughed loudly. Your eyes were curious when they met his, the darkness of the night making it almost impossible to read what was behind his brown stare. Theodore, Gregory and Mike joined the group of drunk men then, your mouth lightly lifting into a sad smile when Jonathan surprised him by wrapping his arm around the prince’s neck and messing up his hair jokingly.
‘Violet.’
You turned around as someone called you.
And when Steve got Jonathan off him and he lifted his eyes again, you were not in the window anymore.
Instead, you sat on a chair in a table where the remains of a card game laid, messy and forgotten as the wine came and went between you and the rest of women giving you company that night. The night before your wedding.
The two queens sat next to each other, laughing, and joking under the effects of the alcohol as you listened to a very drunk Robin talk about new designs. Nancy’s eyes stayed on her with a funny look every time your friend stuttered or laughed at something silly because of how drunk she was.
Other ladies sat in the sofas gossiping, drinking, and eating cake under the dim lights of the candles. You had supressed many sighs in the last hour, begging for them to get drunk to the point they’d leave you to be miserable in peace, but they were ecstatic.
‘Oh, I’m so happy.’ Said Queen Yvette then, grabbing your mother’s wrist fondly. ‘There hasn’t been a wedding in this castle in years.’
You smiled shyly then, the knot on your stomach rising to your chest and the walls of your throat closing. Your eyes stung, your heart beat fast.
‘And look at you!’ Your mother said standing up to cup your cheeks on her hands. ‘Look at her! Isn’t she the prettiest bride?’
You could feel every pair of eyes in the room on you.
‘Mother,’ Your voice became hoarse by the tears you tried to swallow, your hands finding her wrists as she leaned on you fondly.
Queen Yvette stood up then, glass of wine still on her hand, cheeks red by her drunkenness, a hand rubbing on your back with familiarity. ‘Oh, I still remember when you were a little wild thing! So young and so troublesome!’
You let out a breathy laugh in embarrassment.
‘You hated Steve.’ She laughed, ‘Oh, and he was so madly in love with you already. It was adorable.’
‘God, I still remember all the fights.’ Said your mother rolling her eyes. ‘And now look at you, my little queen.’
You nodded then, cheeks hot by what they assumed were the drinks influence and the affection that surrounded you. But your eyes turned blurry at the way the knife twisted inside your chest.
It was almost a relief when Robin took a bucket near the table and threw up in it.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ She started saying when you and Nancy grabbed her arms.
‘It’s fine.’ You said rubbing her shoulder.
‘Yeah, you’re okay, Robin.’ Said Nancy then, putting a strand of hair behind her ear.
‘Come on. Let’s get you to bed.’ You said then, eyes looking at Nancy hoping she would get the message. You needed a break away from all the attention.
Robin landed softly on her bed, eyes partly closed and mouth mumbling nonsense as Nancy covered her with a blanket and you sat on a chair on the other side of the room.
You let out a sigh, placing you hand on your mouth as you thought.
Nancy left you in peace as her eyes focused on Robin’s profile, standing next to the bed. Your eyes lifted when her hand started to follow the line from Robin’s forehead to her mouth, eyes subtly lifting and the ghost of a smile on her lips. Your gaze turned blurry at the tenderness of the gesture, heart sinking on your chest.
It was as if love had been all around you for so long, and you were completely blind to it, unable to feel it.
‘You’re drunk.’ You whispered then, standing up.
Nancy only lifted her dreamy eyes at you, cheeks rosy when she realised you had been observing her all along.
You walked to Robin’s bed, lifting the covers for Nancy to climb in. She did so softly, followed by your silent orders as if she hadn’t been dreaming about sleeping next to Robin since she was a child who befriended the weird girl from the castle.
You covered their bodies with the blanket then. It was all innocent and tender, as Nancy wrapped her arms behind Robin and placed her chin on her shoulder. Her heavy eyes closed before you blew the candle, leaving you in total darkness.
Now you were alone in the hallway. Finally. Hands behind your back, scratching the stone behind you as you thought about your luck, remembering the day you met the stubborn boy with the brown eyes.
And you couldn’t hold it in anymore.
You almost made your knuckles bleed when you knocked on his door. You didn’t know what time it was, the wind whistling outside and the wolves howling in the distance.
‘Violet.’ He said your name when he found you outside his room, cheeks red and hair partly sweaty. He was holding a jug of wine in his hand, lips tinted by the liquid and eyes serious as he looked back at you.
‘Is this a bad time?’ You asked stealing a glance to his room beyond his shoulder. But he seemed to be alone, no trace of the boys who had been drinking with him earlier.
He let out a breathy laugh and you noticed the way his eyelids were heavy, stumbling subtly as he leaned his back against the threshold.
‘What d’you need, princess?’ He asked, taking a sip straight out of the jug.
You blinked repeatedly at the bluntness of his tone. ‘I– I was hoping we could discuss some things about tomorrow.’
‘What things?’ He was amused at something, but you didn’t know what. Your cheeks were hot, your hands were cold and sweaty. ‘Decorations? Courses? Or maybe you want a new dress. Anything to call this circus off and go back home?’
You opened your mouth to say something, but a silhouette behind him opened the door wider. King Talbot seemed serious when he looked at you, you thought it could only be his disapproval of your presence in Steve’s chambers, but something inside you made you feel this was much bigger than that.
‘Your majesty.’ You bowed then, still confused at the situation and not sure about how to proceed.
‘Please forgive my son, princess.’ He said then. ‘You may come in.’
You frowned your eyebrows then, walking in to find King Paul sitting in front of the fireplace with a cup of wine on his hand.
‘Father?’
‘Sit down, Violet.’ He said, avoiding your eyes. You looked back at Steve, who clumsily shut the door behind him before walking back to his seat.
You were possessed by a familiar feeling. The day of your engagement your body moved without thinking, and now you were sitting down in front of your father, numbness taking over it as you waited to hear what they had to say. There was no sign of Theodore or Gregory, and the two queens remained drunk in the room upstairs, unaware of this meeting.
‘You went to the city today.’ Said King Talbot as he walked around the room with a cup of wine on his hand.
Your eyes landed on Steve for a second before looking back at the King. His eyes were focused on the fireplace, the wine jug long forgotten on a table next to the door.
‘We did, your majesty.’
The King’s ringed hands landed on the back of one of the chairs, standing behind it as he looked at you. ‘With what intention?’
‘I wanted to see the city.’
‘Violet.’ Your father’s voice made you look back at him.
‘It’s the truth.’ Your voice was firm enough, so your father’s eyes moved back to the fire. ‘Your majesty, I don’t understand–’
‘Your imprudence could’ve put you and the prince in great danger. I should be reminding you this is not your kingdom, princess Violet.’
‘It certainly will be tomorrow.’ You said standing up, looking at Steve. ‘What is this really about?’
He sighed then, eyes tired as he brushed his hair with his hand. Steve opened his mouth to speak, but King Talbot spoke first.
‘There’s been an attempted revolt–’
‘It was not a revolt.’ Steve interrupted him before looking at you. ‘Just some subjects trying to speak to a King that doesn’t wish to see them.’
‘Steve–’ The King tried to contradict his son, but Steve wasn’t finished.
‘They were complaining about the taxes, and the… the wedding.’ His eyes focused on the fireplace, unable to meet yours.
You took a deep breath, walking to the table next to the fireplace to pour yourself a drink, but you decided against it at the last second. Steve looked at the way you lent against the table instead, eyes lost on the stoned floor as you thought about what to do.
‘But that’s ridiculous.’ Said your father. ‘We are funding the wedding.’
‘It’s not time for celebrations, my King.’ You replied then, lifting your eyes.
‘The war is over.’ He argued, making you scoff instantly.
‘Not for them, father.’
Your words lingered in the air for a few seconds as you came up with a possible solution. It was a great risk. It was insane. It was never going to work.
‘What if–’ Their eyes lifted to look at you, half of your face lit up by the fireplace. ‘What if I’m already carrying the next heir of the throne? That would justify such a wedding.’
Your father stood up instantly as Steve walked towards you. His hand found your wrist firmly as he shook his head. ‘This is not– No. This would ruin you.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ You said, moving your arm to get rid of his grip, missing his hand, and the softness of the ball hours ago. An absence that burned. ‘This is not my kingdom, Steve.’
His eyes turned softer at your coldness, and the way your words echoed those of King Talbot’s. But he had hurt you first. You had come to his chambers to confess it all. To admit defeat and tell him that you believed you could be truly happy with him. But now you weren’t so sure.
‘I don’t like this.’ Said your father then. ‘It doesn’t make you look good.’
‘Spending this much money on a wedding for two unhappy people doesn’t look good either, father.’
Steve scoffed then, walking away with his hands on his hips. You followed his silhouette with your eyes for a few seconds before looking back at your father. ‘What you don’t like it’s the fact that it doesn’t make you look good.’
King Paul opened his mouth to speak, but King Talbot was quicker at replying.
‘It’s too much of a risk. Not just for you, but for the princesses too.’
‘By the time the princesses get married I hope you know better than to abandon your people, your majesty.’ You said.
The silence was heavy between you and the King as you stood up on the other side of the room, certain that after all, you were risking it all tonight. Just not in the way you expected.
‘You are a guest in my kingdom, princess Violet.’
‘And I am carrying the future ruler of it.’ You lied, feeling the blood boiling under your skin.
The three men looked back at you, two of them thinking they now understood your determination and insistence at justifying the wedding. You avoided Steve’s frown as the silence fell in the room. He couldn’t believe what you were doing, but the words you said in the old church echoed through his mind.
We’re rulers.
We’ll do whatever it takes.
Whatever it takes.
‘There will be a wedding. Just not the wedding that everyone expected. There will be no ball or banquet and the food will be donated to the subjects. If not,’ You swallowed hard as you looked at the eyes of King Talbot. ‘I’ll let everyone know I’m pregnant.’  
You slowly walked towards your father then, your hands finding his ringed fingers when you stood in front of him. You tried hard to blink away the tears on your face, thinking you were destroying all the admiration he had for you, one you had so hardly worked for throughout all these years of sacrifices.
‘I don’t want you to spend any more money on trivialities.’ His eyebrows arched at the seriousness in yours, trying to unpack everything he had learned in a matter of seconds. ‘You’re either helping me to rebuild this city or not helping me at all.’
You could still feel their eyes on you when you bowed before grabbing your dress on your fists to walk back to the hallway. You knew he’d follow you, but you still decided to ignore the sound of his steps on the stone floor as he called your name.
‘Violet–’
‘Leave me alone, Steve.’ Your tone was firm, but he still noticed the way you cleaned the hot tears with the back of your hand. His pulse had turned intolerably fast, fearing the consequences of what you had done.
‘No.’ He grabbed your elbow, making you turn back to him. His fingers wrapped around the skin under your shoulders, so you’d look at him. Your eyes were full of a rage greater than whatever he had seen in your adolescent years. This was something else. Something much darker. ‘Why did you do that!? Are you insane!?’
‘Steve,’ You were almost spitting hate by the way you pronounced his name. ‘Let me go.’
‘Would you listen for a second?’ He shook you slightly then, making your blood boil even more. You never listened, and now he feared for your life. ‘Have you any idea of the things my father could do if we were found out? Do you realise what you’ve done?’
You tried to get rid of his grip, but his hands moved to your waist, pushing you towards him in an attempt to hold on to every inch of your skin.
You lifted your fist to punch his chest, but his fingers found your chin first, making you look back at him whether you liked it or not. ‘Are you listening to me?’
You stopped fighting then, letting out a scoff of disbelief. ‘We wouldn’t be in this position if you stood up to your father. I’m saving your kingdom once again and you’re just calling me insane.’
‘You didn’t even ask me, Violet.’ His hand left your chin then, moving to cup your face instead, trying to find a way to hold you. Hating himself for failing you once again. ‘It was impulsive, and foolish and reckless.’
‘Let me go, Steve.’ You said finally getting rid of his grip. You took a step back to look back at his flushed cheeks and messy hair. ‘You’re drunk.’
‘And you’re impossible.’ He said brushing his hair with his fingers in frustration. ‘There are some things, Violet, that are out of your control. How could you be so foolish?’
You looked to your side then, hand on your mouth and eyes getting blurry the more his words wounded you. He was right, how could you be so foolish to think he loved you back?
You stood in silence then, and he observed you, longing to hold you in his arms again. Knowing that this was all his fault. Almost as if you had read his mind, you spoke again.
‘Don’t blame me for your cowardice.’ Your wounded eyes looked back at him then, the scars from all those years reopening again in front of his eyes. ‘I’ve sacrificed so much, Steve. I’m not sacrificing my morals for you.’
He stood there, looking at you as you took a few steps back before walking back to your room, knowing that only one thing was certain: tomorrow you’d become his wife.
The wind had changed. That’s the first thing Steve noticed that morning, as he let the arrow go gracefully, landing near the blue centre of the bullseye, but not quite in the middle of it.
His hangover had brought him a sleepless night, a frown adorning his face and purple under eyes making him feel at least ten years older than he was the day he was going to get married.
He looked down at the grass as the tip of the bow sunk on the dirt, the early morning wind blowing his hair as the sun started to rise in the distance.
A day ago, he would’ve thought he was still on time to call it off and save you from a life of unhappiness. But now he was certain you were doomed to live a marriage based on bitterness and resentment.
He took his hands to his eyes, hoping that by rubbing them he would get rid of the migraine that was starting to form in there.
Right after you left, he had run back to the room, finding the kings arguing over you.
‘What have you done?’ Said his father as soon as he walked back in. ‘Everything. Paul and I gave you everything and you do this.’
Steve could not look back at them, swallowing hard as his eyes got lost on the flames of the fireplace.
‘I’ll send for the doctor to visit her tomorrow.’ Steve’s eyes lifted at his father’s words. ‘We must find out before–’
‘You will certainly not.’ Said King Paul then, before the prince could speak. ‘You won’t put my daughter through any more distress. Specially not now.’
The King frowned at the words of his friend. ‘Do you expect me to believe this without any proof?’
‘Father.’ Steve interjected then. ‘Even if it was a mistake and she turns out not to be pregnant, I’m marrying Violet.’
‘Because you slept with her?’
‘How dare you?’ King Paul stood in front of him then, and Steve had to take a step forwards to keep him from hurting his father. ‘How dare you speak about my daughter that way?’
Steve took a deep, tense breath then, looking back at his father.
‘Because I love her.’
Now, as the dawn painted the mountains in orange shades, he wasn’t so sure that would be enough.
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You couldn’t have breakfast. But Nancy made sure you drank a lot of tea as they dressed you on your white dress. It was exactly what you wanted: fingerless gloves, off the shoulder top, long gown. The numbness growing unmeasurably the more garments were added to your body, a pair of white shoes, a heavy diamond necklace, pearls attached to strands of your hair, a silver headpiece holding your veil.
Nancy’s blue eyes searched for yours as she powdered your face, but you were expressionless, thinking about what you had done, wondering if you’d ever be able to fix it.
If there was something good about this was that the people would finally get what they needed. It was the first step to get the justice you wished to see, and that you knew Steve wished to see too. It was almost funny how somehow a common aim was what had ended up dividing you two more than never before. But if there was something you had learned during the war was that good causes couldn’t always be won through respectable methods.
Gregory walked in then, standing on the threshold of you room while you heard chatter and laugh in the distance. You were playing with a white feather when your eyes found his on the mirror in front of you. He was looking at you with endearing eyes, completely unaware of your unhappiness. Until you lowered your eyes.
‘Can I speak to my sister alone?’ You heard him said.
It was the first time you heard him give an order with such authority. The room became quiet when the maids left along with Nancy and Robin, who took a quick glance at you before closing the door behind them.
You followed his blurry silhouette with your eyes as he kneeled in front of you.
‘What’s wrong?’
You shook your head repeatedly as the tears pooled on your eyes.
‘Everything.’
‘Hey,’ His hand found your shoulder, stroking it softly as your cheeks turned hot by the tears running. ‘You look great, Vee. Everything looks great out there, too. I’m so proud of you. Everyone is. There’s not one single person out there waiting for you that doesn’t love you.’
Your eyebrows lifted at his words, a breathy sob leaving your lips as you looked up at the ceiling to avoid your brother’s eyes. ‘That’s not true.’
There was one.
Gregory frowned, trying to grasp the meaning behind your words. ‘What do you mean?’
You rolled your eyes, grabbing a handkerchief on the vanity and cleaning your cheeks. You’d have to call Nancy once again to retouch your face, and you didn’t know what you were going to tell her. You let out a bitter laugh at the swollen-eyed face in the mirror.
‘Forget it. I’m being absurd.’
‘You’re scared.’ He said, searching for your eyes.
‘I’ll get over it.’ You shrugged bitterly.
‘Vee.’ You finally looked at him, the authority behind his tone left you no choice. ‘I can tell Steve that you’re no ready for this, he–’
‘No!’ You leaned in to grab his hands, warm in comparison of the icy skin under your sleeves. ‘Don’t tell Steve. I don’t want him to see me like this. The last thing I need is to humiliate myself in front of him.’
‘Humiliate…? Violet, he’d stop all of this in a second if you asked him to.’ You studied his eyes as his piercing gaze stayed on yours. You could feel your heart breaking inside your chest when realisation landed on his pupils. ‘Violet.’
‘Stop, Gregory.’ You said standing up, a mess of white fabric walking around the room.
‘You can’t possibly think–’
‘I said stop.’ You said in between sobs.
‘Steve loves you.’
‘I said stop!’ You screamed.
His eyebrows frowned at the aggressiveness of your tone. You were breathing heavily, shoulders rising and falling as you looked back at him through your glassy eyes.
You shook your head again, tears falling down your cheeks. Your voice was a low whisper when you spoke.
‘I’m sorry. I just– I’m terrified. Do you know what it’s like to want to be happy with someone and know that all you can give them is misery?’
‘Vee, that’s not true–’
‘It is true for Steve and me.’ You swallowed, feeling your sorrow being replaced by numbness once again. ‘We never called off the engagement and we won’t stop the wedding,’ You were playing with your hands as a sad smile lifted your lips. ‘Because we know this is what we must do. We’ve always known it.’
‘Vee.’ He couldn’t believe your stubbornness. ‘Come on.’
‘Love is not something for people like us, Gregory.’
You lifted your eyes to look at him, wondering if you should tell him about what had happened last night. The secret that you carried. But the war and the years had distanced you too much from each other, and you had accepted your miserable fate, the one you were responsible for.
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King Paul looked at you through your veil. You were avoiding his eyes as they lingered on the brooch on his vest, with the coat of arms from the archery school. Your lips lifted subtly at the look of it, thinking of the girl you once were.  
Your father stroked your arm, making you look back at him. He hadn’t spoken to you since what happened in Steve’s room the night before. ‘Ready?’
You nodded, turning your body towards the church’s entrance. Your hand wrapped around his arm, and you squeezed once. The silence between you two was heavy and wounding, your heart beating hard against your chest.
‘Father.’ Your voice was soft when you whispered, turning back at him with glossy eyes under your veil. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He didn’t reply, instead he moved forward to leave a soft kiss on your forehead before the doors opened and the trumpets announced your arrival.
Steve’s eyes turned soft at the sight of you. Eyebrows arching for a second before fixing his posture, fighting the overwhelming feeling of his heart beating against his chest. He swallowed hard at your white silhouette, the way your gentle hands got lost under the lace of the gloves, subtly shaking with every step you took towards him.
How many times had he thought of your like this? Too many. But it was killing him to know that you were terrified. That you hated him. He could get on his knees right there and beg you to forgive him. For what had happened the night before, for everything that happened in your kingdom. For leaving you no option than to walk down this aisle.
He swallowed hard again.
You had promised yourself you wouldn’t look at him, but it was as if the room was empty as you walked down the aisle. Your throat closed with fear, and your heart beat so fast you thought you’d faint at any second. Until you stood in front of him.
Steve held your freezing hand when your father let you go, thumb brushing over your knuckles as you took a deep breath, glad that the veil covered your face just enough to hide the tear that rolled down your cheek.
You stood still as the bishop spoke, feeling everyone’s eyes on you but only focused on the rhythmic breaths of the prince next to you. He was looking at you from the corner of his eye, thumb still brushing over yours as the words of the useless sermon echoed through the room.
He held your shaky hand when the bishop announced the vows. Steve took a step towards you then, fingers lifting the lightweight fabric to find your angelical face wet. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, loving him, hating him. Not knowing what to do as he lifted his hands to clean your face with his soft thumbs.
‘I Steve,’ He said, brown eyes focused on the hairs that curled against your temple to avoid your wounded gaze, ‘Take you, Violet, to be my wife. To have and to hold from this day forward;’ He had to stop, taking a deep shaky breath before proceeding. ‘For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.’
His hands left your face to take the ring offered to him, a silvery thing with a sapphire on top that he had chosen thinking about all those jewels you used to wear on your collarbones once upon a time. Your hand was shaky when you offered it, and you observed the way it slid on your finger while a mix of emotions burst on your chest.
‘To love and to cherish. Forever.’ He lifted your ringed hand, brown eyes looking back at you, before he kissed your knuckles with a tenderness that killed you. ‘Or till death do us part.’
You swallowed hard, blinking slowly as he let your hand go. The absence of his warm skin burned you, but not for long, as your fingers shyly brushed his as you started you own oath.
‘I, Violet, t-take you, Steve.’ Your voice was shaky and soft. He tilted his head with arched brows, and you were sure no one had heard you, so you had to start again, shutting your eyes hard by the embarrassment. ‘I, Violet, take you, Steve. To be my husband.’
You lifted his hand then, reaching for the ring and taking the opportunity to lower your eyes, sight blurry as you spoke. ‘To have and to hold from this day forward; for better, for worse.’ You slid the ring through his finger, slowly letting it go once it fit. ‘For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.’
His hand rested on his side now, and you had to take a deep breath before lifting your eyes. His brown irises were expectant, knowing that you’d lie here in front of everyone. Knowing that there was so much he’d never be able to give you.
Hating himself for what he had let you do.
‘To… love.’ You whispered, trying to hold the tears that threatened to fall. His hand found the side of your neck then, thumb brushing your jaw as you looked from his eyes to his lips. Hoping things could be different, saying words than meant nothing compared to what you really wanted to say. ‘And to cherish. Till death do us part.’
‘You may kiss the bride.’
You looked at him expectantly waiting to feel his lips on your mouth. But Steve took a step forwards to place a soft kiss on your forehead, a subtle thing that filled you with bitterness and made you close your eyes, feeling a tear rolling through your cheek while everyone on the audience clapped for the most miserable couple in the kingdom.
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‘I don’t understand.’ Said your agitated mother as you walked inside the room, taking your veil off and dropping it on the floor. Hot tears still rolled through your face as you tried to deal with the hurt and humiliation. ‘Why would Talbot cancel the banquet?’
‘Mother,’ She frowned at your tone as you looked back at her. ‘I wish to be alone.’
‘Violet–’
‘Leave.’
You tried to catch your breath as you saw her wounded eyes look back at you. And Oh, did you hate yourself now. You had managed to disappoint both of your parents and your brother in a matter of hours. Ruining every good thing that had ever happened to you.
You cleaned your nose with the back of your hand, exhausted and defeated as you sat on the floor next to the bed, your untouched, marital bed, hiding your face as you crossed your arms over your knees, white gown taking most of the space and the distant celebration bells echoing all around you. 
Steve heard them too. As soon as the church’s doors closed, he saw you run upstairs and instead of standing where he was, reaching for the ghost of your face, he decided to walk in the opposite direction towards the stables.
‘Steve–’ Queen Agnes put a hand on his chest, confusion overflowing her face as she tried to search for his eyes.
‘Not now, mother.’ He said, removing her caring hand and resuming his walk.
Only King Talbot could assume what was going on inside his son’s head. His son who had caused so much trouble.
‘Steve.’
His father stood in his way then. His brown eyes, so similar to the ones he saw whenever he looked in the mirror. The King’s stare was full of something he never thought he would ever see coming from him: disappointment and distrust. He spoke in between his teeth as he looked down at her son.
‘You might want to go to your subjects if you wish to fulfil your wife’s wishes.’
Steve swallowed hard as he looked back at the king. But he was too angry to follow that command. Too angry with himself, with the world, with you.
So instead, he rode all the way to Lover’s Lake. He would’ve ridden even further away if it wasn’t for the fact he could kill his horse in the process.
All he could do was kick the ground after dismounting, holding his head in his hands, letting out a wounded scream.
He was a coward. He knew he was a coward, but you? You were ruthless and brutally cruel. You had crossed the line and shattered his heart in the process, starved for power when he would’ve renounced to heaven if that meant he’d get to be in hell with you. And now he had to go back to the castle and give you a child to save whatever was left of this marriage that hadn’t even started.
He sniffed as he looked up to the grey sky of spring, sight blurry by the tears he could not hold anymore. And he screamed your name until his voice turned hoarse and the starless night fell.
A new era had started, and you and Steve would rule, but at what cost?
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author's note: hiii babies, i decided to add a note here to avoid any spoilers. i know a lot happened in this chapter but i promise, promise, promise this is the last angsty chapter of this au. there's so much fluff and love in the next one. please also remember all my aus have happy endings, okay??? everything that happens here will make sense at the end. don't hate me pls. ily all and please let me know your thoughts on this one. ♡
part VI: state of grace (april, 5th)
🏷️: @thytorturedpoet @sheisjoeschateau @totally-bogus-timelady @bitterspoons @julielightwood @avie-mo @ellharrington @hollandweather @kitdjarin1 @emptyporsche
I do no consent for people to plagiarise, translate, copy or repost any of my written works anywhere. I do not consent people to use any of my written work for AI purposes.
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causticcauses · 2 days
Text
Study Session Sunshine
cross-posted on Ao3
Pairing: Oliver Quick x Felix Catton
Summary: Felix Catton is not a good study buddy. He makes up for it in other ways.
Genre: Fluff, established relationship, university.
Warnings: One very mild suggestive comment.
Wordcount: 1.8K
A/N: A cute fic based on a request post I saw on Tumblr but lost!
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He's always aware of Felix. From the moment the man steps into a room to the second he saunters out – and sometimes longer than that – Oliver can feel that magnetic resonance through his chest. Most times he reacts to it. Orients his body to be a little more in line with Felix, shoulders shifted, knees turned, chin tucked just a bit further in his direction. It's automatic and easy and paying attention to Felix, even at a subconscious level, is comforting to Oliver. A flower shifting to the sun.
Things become more complicated when the sun is burning him for attention and he's got other things to do.
Felix's fingers tap along his thigh, almost like they're composing some kind of symphony or figuring out Morse code, but when Oliver glances his way, the man's eyes are on his own textbook. For a second Oliver really can't tell if it's purposeful, but then Felix can't hold it in and a pleased curve at the corner of his mouth gives up the game. It's a breezy little smirk that makes Ollie want to lean over and kiss him.
Or maybe smack him upside the head. This exam is important.
A compromise of sorts, catching the long, elegant fingers and stilling them. Felix makes a half-hearted attempt to escape, shifting in the chair that's jammed close enough that they can share the one-person desk, but when Oliver lightly tightens his grip, he gives up. Leaving his hand in Oliver's, resting together on Oliver's thigh.
For a few minutes that solves the problem. With the warmth of Felix's skin against his palm, Oliver can mostly go back to concentrating on The Second Coming by Yeats and artists' and scholars' discussions of societal collapse.
On a Wednesday afternoon, Felix's room is quiet, no people booking it up and down the dorm halls outside. The sunlight is drifting lazily through the window, and it's hot but not the unbearable temperatures of last week. The books strewn haphazardly over Felix's bed, desk and the floor speak to the several hours they've already put in to studying.
Just a few more – or more like ten – and Oliver might actually be ready for the exam tomorrow.
If he isn't booked for murder some time today, that is.
The eraser – one of those cutesy pink things in the vague shape of a bunny – comes hopping across his textbook, blocking the words. When Ollie glances up with mingled frustration and amusement, its mover is grinning unrepentantly, the afternoon sun spilling over his face like honey. In that golden light his features are blurred, softened, but still so achingly familiar. It's totally unfair that Oliver's breath catches in his throat at the brilliance of Felix's smile; how the hell is he supposed to scold him if he can barely breathe?
"You wanna hop over to the dining hall for a break?" Felix asks, and he's kinda trying to be clever but mostly he sounds like a hopeful kid.
A second of focus brings his breath somewhat under control, and Oliver sighs. "Aw, Felix, we gotta keep on. Dinner's not for..." He checks the clock and can barely keep from wincing. "We got a couple hours yet."
"Mate, we've been at this for hours," Felix complains, the lolly making a popping sound as he pulls it out of his mouth. "I can't read any more shit about urns or albatrosses or bloody abbeys, I really can't."
It’s a little unfortunate that Felix is probably close to telling the truth. Whereas Oliver can concentrate on things for hours at a time, powering through feverish cram sessions to get some measure of a handle on his studies, the man next to him isn’t like that. Not even when he wants to be, and he doesn’t want to be very often. Even during this session, where Oliver knows Felix has been genuinely trying, he’s still been messing around on and off. Playing on his Nintendo DS, making rubber band slingshots, texting with friends, drawing scribbles up and down the pages of his notes. Probably been through like ten lollypops at this point.
Felix can probably get away with it, but Ollie can’t. He needs this mark to keep his scholarship.
“Just an hour more, okay? We can piss off and do something else in a bit.”
With a loud groan, Felix throws his head back, glares up at the ceiling. He stays in that position, sulking and avoiding eye contact. Oliver would be more concerned, more guilty, but he knows his boyfriend isn’t seriously annoyed. If he was, he would have yanked his hand away, maybe flipped his textbook closed and flung himself on his bed in a fit of pique. In a few minutes he’ll relax, find something to do, and Ollie can get this done.
Unless the thing that Felix chooses to do is stare at him. Which is exactly what he does.
Oliver becomes aware of the weight of his gaze after a few moments. It makes his skin prickle in a thrilling way, just a little bit abashed, just a little bit elated. He risks a glance and sure enough, Felix is watching him with those rich brown eyes, the lollypop idle in his hand as he chews on his lip. There's something provoking about the look, but Oliver can't address it right now, he can't.
Though he shifts his eyes back to his textbook, Oliver isn't really seeing the words. The same sentence passes through his head five or six times without comment, and still Felix doesn't stop staring.
He shouldn't encourage the man, but – "What?"
"What?" Felix replies, innocence saturating his deep baritone. When Oliver exhales sharply, Felix makes a vague gesture with the lolly, like he's conducting the annoyance away.
"I like the way you look when you're studying, Ollie. You're so focused, and you get this little scrunch, right..." He reaches out, trails his thumb over the skin between Oliver's eyebrows, almost like he's smoothing out the strain there. "It's cute."
The scowl Oliver adopts feels very put on. "It'll be less cute when I kill you."
Felix laughs, the sound rolling out easy and luxurious. He thumbs at the spot on Oliver's forehead, and Oliver realizes he's scrunching there again. "See? Cute."
"Felix..."
"Yeah, yeah, I know, mate. Studying." And with a roll of his eyes that isn't too mocking, Felix takes his hand away, turns back to his own textbook.
And for another thirty minutes or so, there's peace.
Oliver does his best to focus. He really does. But in truth, and it's actually not Felix's fault, he's finding it hard. Yeah, he can concentrate for a long time, but this is going on their sixth hour with just a break for scarfed snacks shoved somewhere in there. His head is starting to ache, eyes sore, and the lines of text blur frustratingly from his reaching mind. The feeling that he's not understanding the content makes his stress spike, which in turn makes it harder to focus, which –
Felix gets up from the chair next to Ollie. Oliver assumes his boyfriend is hitting the bathroom or maybe caving to another session of distraction, and in the midst of his frustration and stress he’s aware of where Felix is but not what he’s doing. However, a moment later and Felix's tall form is almost draped over Oliver from behind, bent practically double to engulf him in a hug within the chair. He presses a light kiss to Oliver's ear before mumbling, "Come on, mate. It's time for a break, yeah?"
"I've gotta –"
"It's gonna be here when you get back, Ollie. Look, I know you're smarter than me, but it's kinda dumb to keep pushing yourself like this. I've heard you sigh like ten times now. A break will help."
Hands tense on the desk, not able to take as much comfort in Felix's embrace as he should, Oliver mutters, "It's this damn poem. 'A vision out of Spiritus Mundi'? What the hell is that? I mean, the rest is fine, but that –"
"Which poem is it?" Felix interrupts, not letting him go into a spiralling rant. "One of Blake's?"
"No, The Second Coming. Yeats."
Low and reverberating, Felix's scoff rumbles from his chest and through Ollie's back, right to his heart. "You know enough about second comings already, Ollie. And three times, too."
Despite himself, Oliver has to laugh at that. Low and tired and fading out too quickly, but he laughs. "Guess we should both be experts."
"Now you're catching on, mate. Now..." Felix's arms tighten, so secure around Oliver's shoulders. "You're going to stop ignoring your expert boyfriend, and we're going to get something to eat. We'll relax and then I swear – I swear – you'll have enough time to study later."
It's not something new, but Oliver feels a flicker of resentment at Felix's confidence. Of course Felix – with his connections, his name, his wealth, his everything – can speak so easily about "enough time". He'll have enough time to do anything for his entire life and if he doesn't he'll just buy it or get someone to lend it to him. But Oliver isn’t so lucky. He has to do well on this exam, and the next, and the next, and –
"Ollie," Felix pleads, sincere and lively, his breath warm on Oliver's skin. His big hands reach out to grab Oliver's textbook, half threatening to close the hefty tome, but he doesn't go all the way. Felix waits, his chest pressed to Oliver's back, and Oliver can feel the vibrating impatience in the other man. But he waits.
Inexplicably, the sun has oriented itself to one flower in particular, maybe just as much as the flower has oriented itself to the sun’s brilliant glow. And Oliver might not have money or influence or enough hours of sleep to be getting on with, but he has Felix. Even in the midst of looming exams and assignments and the muggy slog of exhaustion, having Felix makes everything feel so much lighter. Brighter.
With a low sigh, a releasing of the tension and the frustration, Oliver tilts his head back to rest against Felix’s shoulder. “You’re such a brat.”
A chuckle that rolls easily to Oliver’s ears. “Venetia would agree.” Felix takes Oliver’s relaxation for the permission it is and flips the textbook shut. Then he’s nuzzling into the crook of Oliver’s neck, several quick, tender kisses that scour the fatigue away. At least a little.
And as Felix urges – pesters – Oliver out of the chair, away from his books, away from the mountain of stress, Oliver can’t help but feel that he’s angled in exactly the right way.
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whoviandoodler · 10 months
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this is how this scene went right
[id in alt]
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theguardianace · 11 months
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Run Away
[ID: a digital painting of Akiyama Mizuki. Their pose and outfit are from their “The Words Only I Can Convey” card. They are painted with more detail in color and visible brush strokes. The background is a deep blue with sparkles rising from the bottom. /end ID]
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zemnarihah · 11 months
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here's the sketch btw:)
#in the final there's gonna probably be more stuff in the background just whatever random stuff like more jars and bottles and books it just#felt silly to spend time drawing that rn when i'm going to have to transfer it#but anyway YEAH i'm having a lot of fun on this one:)#i rlly like the fairies i originally had them like trapped#they're going to be light sources like they act as lanterns in the jars#so originally they were just trapped in there but i was like. man:/ that's not cool...#and i wanted them to be more like. playful or whatever so i gave them a way in and out and stuff and had them be kinda gossipy#bc i think that's fun:) in my brain they like live w her and give her light and help her w miscellaneous magic stuff and she gives them a#nice cozy place to live but they're still silly mischievous little guys....#ANYWAY#yeah so the plan tomorrow. i have to go to the school to use a light table and transfer it. and then i should probably also go get a new#pen bc my fine one is running out. AND THEN idk maybe i should do a value study or smth and also finish drawingthe rest of the miscellaneou#stuff which should be very quick like it doesnt need to be v detailed or specific i dont think like i can kinda just put it in willy nilly#and then after that we watercolor!#doing that FIRST this time#and i think i'm just gonna do monochrome bc ummm i don't have time. so that should go quick bc i dont want to do it super detailed or#anything just flat washes for value n such#like maybe a kinda foresty green....#and then we line it! which is the fun part:)#sorry nobody cares abt that but i have to write it out#just for my own self to know. what the FUCK is going on.#i'm rlly hoping i can finish it tmrw but who's to say. i have the whole day but it depends on how focused i can stay idk#ok im going to bed now. goodnight. if anyone actually read all that.#my art
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privateexamination · 2 months
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TAGS.
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chuluoyi · 2 months
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✎ sick days
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- gojo satoru x reader
who holds the fort when you fall sick? of course, it's your lovesick husband and baby!
genre: fluff, fluff, fluffff. basically, your baby is adorable, gojo is your husband and not only is he lovesick with you, he humors your baby so much it’s making me— sighs
note: based on this post! hi hi chu is back from vacation and here’s another dad!gojo fluff indulgence and we stan domestic men okay🤭
a part of gojo's love entries
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
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It's plain sight that Gojo Satoru is a highly attractive individual, and now that he has a son, it's fair to say that he’s the hottest dilf on the block.
With one hand twirling a famous brand of flu medicine box and the other propping his baby son at his hip, he garnered curious eyes, even in drugstore near his home.
“Hmm, why is it so cheap? Suspicious…”
Satoru let out a light hum, studying the orange and pink boxes, as well as glancing at the other purple box with bold labels claiming its effectiveness in halting cold symptoms, and then looked at his son.
His baby's big, crystal blue eyes blinked in wonder at the vibrant colors, and he reached out with grubby hands towards them. “Bwah!”
Suddenly, he got an idea.
“Hey, kiddo. Which do you think is better for mama?” he asked the baby, gesturing at the all three medicine on the rack with his jaw. “You choose.”
As if on cue, the little ball of fluff that was his son immediately reached out for the purple box, the more expensive out of all three displayed before him. Without missing a beat, he also seized both the orange and pink boxes in quick succession, holding them close to his chest.
Satoru broke into a hearty laugh, a wide grin split his face, as he affectionately tousled the boy's head with pride.
“That's my boy! Splurging is allowed—after all, we're rich!”
When the first signs of cold manifested in you, Satoru was already worried. He had warned you to take more rest, but typical you, you brushed it off as a mere fatigue.
And when this morning, you woke up to sudden coughing fits and hot-and-cold spells, which ended up with kicking him out of your shared bedroom in fear of spreading the virus, like the doting husband he was, Satoru promptly headed to the pharmacy with your baby in tow to get you some help.
"Oh my, sir, your son is so adorable!" the female cashier gushed when he got over to pay, finally voicing what other customers thought in their heads. He could sense the discreet glances from those around him even now.
As the baby clung to his shirt, Satoru tightened his grip on him and responded with a self-assured grin, ensuring those nearby heard his words, "Of course he is! My wife is pretty as heck too, shame she's down with fever today."
"Aww! Such high praise, you must adore your wife!"
"Mm-hmm!"
Ah, so he still has a wife. The other customers went about their day, some disappointed that the dilf was still evidently devoted to his wife. They could only wonder just who could the lucky woman was.
Moving on— after the short trip to the drugstore, Satoru went back home. He promptly checked on you in your master bedroom, inquiring, "Hey, how are—"
But he immediately halted upon seeing you nestled so comfortably under the blankets, sleeping soundly. For a moment, he simply stood, blinking and observing your serene slumber.
Strange that something inside him both softened and lurched at the sight. You were just that precious in his eyes. Stupid as it was, he was quite miserable to go through the day without your nagging and nitpicking. And above all, he never liked seeing you in any kind of discomfort—it made his protective instincts soar.
Hence his thought— there is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, even if it means sacrificing heaven itself.
“Myah!” A hard shove on his arm and his baby’s babbling snapped him out of his trance. Satoru shifted his baby to his other hand, let out a questioning hum, and affectionately pinched his mochi-like cheeks.
“Hmm? You can’t be hungry, I—oooh,” a sheepish expression of realization appeared on his face, his blue eyes widened slightly as his baby glared at him. Then, chuckling like the goofball he was, Satoru patted him on his head to appease his grudge, “I haven’t fed you since this morning, eh?”
“Fwah!”
“Pfft! There, there… Me is sorry~ Now let me whip something up for you and mama, yeah?”
Now, he wouldn't claim to be the best chef, but he could certainly cook to save himself. Rolling up his sleeve, he went to the kitchen after leaving and stuffing his baby boy with a pacifier on his high chair.
“Hmmm, baby food for the minion and… congee? Yeah, congee should be good.”
Next task was feeding his already seething baby after he mixed together his baby food. He was a fussy eater—mostly with him, but surprisingly not so much with you (apparently, that's just his way of showing who he favors between his parents, heh). But when he managed to get the food in, with every spoonful, his son’s smile gradually widened, and so did his happiness.
Satoru thought then that he was the cutest thing he had ever created. His son was clearly a mini-him, but his reactions were definitely so you.
“Is it tasty? It is, isn’t it?” he cooed with baby voice, earning a delightful giggle in response from his son. Pushing his luck, he added with a suggestive grin, “Papa is the best, isn’t he?”
“Bwah...” The joyful expression on his baby's face faded instantly, dissolving into an unamused pout, prompting Satoru to righteously click his tongue.
“Why are you so against me?!”
After he was done with his fill, Satoru picked your baby up to the master bedroom to bring you something to eat. Seated on the opposite edge of the bed, he silently adored your sleeping form once again.
Right at that moment, the baby in his arms wriggled, reaching out for you. Acting on a sudden impulse, he put him on the bed, facing you.
“Now, go to mama, would you?” he whispered gently, grinning and giving his bum a light pat. “Go!”
Your son was also Gojo Satoru’s son, therefore he was an adept crawler even at barely seven months old. With remarkable agility, the little soldier steadily moved towards you, his diapers jiggling with each motion. He stopped right in front of your face, clearly recognizing you as his mother.
And your husband swore that even his logic-driven heart melted at the sight of your cute baby suddenly leaned in and clumsily smooched your nose.
Simply just the two most treasured loves of his life.
“Mm?” you let out a soft grunt, feeling the dryness in your throat as you cracked your eyes open, surprised to find yourself face-to-face with your baby. “Oh… why are you here? Don’t get too close…”
“He’ll be fine.” Satoru picked your son up, placing him on his knee and steadying him with one arm. Having moved next to you on the bed, he brushed hair from your forehead. “What about you, hmm? Feeling better?”
Your eyebrows creased into a frown. “Yeah, I think, but more than that, Satoru, I’ve told you, don’t let him—”
“Yes, yes, sweetheart. He won’t get sick, look, he’s as healthy as he can be~” and to make a point, he turned his baby over and lightly smacked his bottom, prompting a whimper from the little one and a gasp from you.
“Don’t spank him!”
“Ehh? Then can I spank you instead?”
“Satoru, you’re a little piece of—!”
Just you and him, as well as the little treasure that was your son. This little family was enough reason to live. To win.
And Gojo Satoru once again thought, that being the strongest didn’t really mean that much anymore because with his world in his hands, nothing else matters.
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Epilogue
“You’re so silly, why did you buy so many?” you grumbled at the sight of three different brands of cold medicine your husband displayed in front of you. “One is enough, do you want me to overdose?”
Satoru snickered. “Don’t blame me, blame your kid. He’s the one picking all of them.”
You totally didn’t get what he meant at all, but yeah, your husband was the silliest human ever and that’s that.
“Hey, don’t you think it’s a bit smelly here?” Satoru suddenly asked, wearing a quizzical expression.
You took a sniff of the air, glancing at your baby blinking innocently and sitting calmly on your husband, and a realization struck you. “Uh, Satoru...”
Following your gaze, as if sensing an omen, Satoru hastily scooped up his son, letting out a bewildered gasp as he felt a slight wetness where the baby had been sitting on him.
“Did he just poo on me?!”
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arachine · 7 months
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something about non-traditional family dynamics with gojo just speaks to me…
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includes :: co-parent!gojo, rich boy!gojo, mentions of pregnancy + leaky nips hehe
note :: this is just pure brainrot, started thinking about him in class today and i needed to get this out of my brain!
link to part two + link to part three
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i’d like to think that after he knocks you up in college, the two of you take it upon yourselves to get married because, “‘it’s the right thing to do.’” and so, for a few years, you do the whole marriage thing—the family thing.
no longer were you the twenty-something-year-old who partied hard every weekend, and studied until the break of dawn every school night.
no, now you were the twenty-something-year-old who fixed bottles at odd hours in the night, whose nipples leaked through all her favorite tops, who had a husband that paid a mortgage and kissed her goodbye before he went off to work for the company passed down to him.
and after some time, things finally start to fall into place—your little family.
the baby gets bigger. you go through the terrible twos, of course, and the teenage-threes, but once she hits five, it’s suddenly pie in the sky—and god, it feels like you can finally start to see a light at the end of the tunnel.
so, you and gojo have one more. one more girl that’s precious, and smart, and quick-tongued, and every bit of her dad as she is you.
things are touch and go for awhile, but for the most part it’s...easy, smooth. that is, until married life starts to feel like a task, and your husband starts to feel like your roommate instead of your companion.
conversations becomes brief, the bed becomes colder, morning kisses are exchanged for nods of acknowledgement, and you can’t even remember the last time either of you desired each other…
one day though, the two of you come to a mutual decision to separate. you spend the night talking, and talking, and talking. you talk about things. memories—before and after. you even talk about your mis-comings, and if things could’ve gone differently had either of you did ‘this, this, and that’.
when you tell the girls, you’re half expecting them to be upset, but all they can think about is how, “‘they’ll get twice the amount of gifts during holidays’” — at least, according to your oldest who heard that from a kid in her class with separated parents.
a few years pass after your separation and now the both of you have come to a place where you can just be...friends. it was weird, at first—dropping your kids off to their 'other home'. walking them up to the grandiose sky-rise apartment building that's always bustling with people who've got places to be, and working class people to probably torture—but that's neither here, nor there.
gojo's waiting in the lobby. he's leaned up against the side of the elevator, dressed down in all black athleisure, and he's sporting that damn cheesy grin that you find yourself missing lately.
"hey girls," he greets, lowering down to his haunches and opening his arms for hugs, "oof—big hugs, almost knocked me over! missed me that much, huh?"
while the three of them get their hugs out of the way, you stand there idly watching, rocking back and forth on the balls of your heels.
"hey," he finally acknowledges you, "how was the drive? they got everything they need?"
"it was fine, and yep! they insisted on packing their own bags like big girls but i checked them," you say, before whispering, "and then repacked them."
he laughs at that, and then grabs their suitcases.
"but yeah, i should get going before traffic hits. if you need anything, let me know, and if you need anything," you drop down to your knees, "mommy's only a call away, okay?"
the two of them nod, "okay, mommy!"
"good...now come on, hugs and kisses!" you pull them in, getting enough kisses for two-weeks time. eventually, you pull away—albit, reluctantly, and wave your goodbyes.
the three of them watch you walk away, and when you're finally out of ear-shot, gojo utters a 'miss that'.
"miss what, daddy?"
"uh-huh," he clears his throat, "daddy didn't say anything..."
"liar, you miss mommy. don't you?" the youngest grins, all cheeky and knowing. gojo rolls his eyes—not out of annoyance, but because of how much they reminded him of himself. much like he, nothing ever got past those two...and he doesn't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. right now, though? it's gonna be a good thing because he needs to know if-
"does mommy have a new boyfriend?"
"why?" the oldest answers, squinting her eyes in suspicion.
"jeez kid, just answer the question."
she ponders for a second, then extends her hand out, opening and closing it in a fast manner. gojo pouts, then takes out his wallet to put a five dollar bill on it.
she doesn't budge.
"oh, c'mon! i'm your father!" he pouts, but acquiesces and pulls out another five, "fine, you little brat."
with a smile on her face, she stuffs the bills in her front pocket and nods her head.
"wha-really?" he gasps, "is he better looking than me? how old is he? is he younger than daddy? is he richer than daddy? what's he do for work?"
ignoring his questions, she only extends her hand out again.
"i'm not giving you any more money, so we can settle this with some ice cream or nothing."
she ponders for a second time before nodding. "ice cream works for me."
"you little...c'mon get on the elevator."
20 floors in and the questions never stop coming.
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honnelander · 7 months
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go fish!
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so i fell in love with Sanji just like everyone else. i've never seen the one piece anime or read the manga so i'm solely going off of the live action. i had fun writing this and plan to make this a series of some sorts where it's a fem!reader x Sanji moments of awkwardness, fluff, and mutual pining because i love reading that stuff myself. if anyone has any suggestions or requests for this series please leave a comment or send me an ask!
WARNINGS: none
word count: 1.3k
pairing: opla!sanji x reader
summary: reader and Usopp are playing a card game when Sanji finds them. teasing ensues.
prequel part 2 part 3 part 4 masterlist
“Care for a refreshment, Madam?” a smooth, deep familiar voice asked to your left, breaking your concentration on the card game in front of you. 
“Hm?” you looked up from the cards in your hand and saw the Going Merry’s own chef looking down at you with a crooked, charming smile as he held a chilled glass bottle of water in his hand. “Oh, hey Sanji,” you greeted quickly with your usual smile as you looked back down at your hand. “What’d you say? Go fish Usopp.” 
Your opponent across the barrel from you grumbled as he took the top card off the deck sitting between you both. 
“I was just asking if the lovely madam sitting here would like a nice, cold refreshment on this particularly hot day?” Sanji asked again with a hint of amusement, his crooked smile deepening as he watched you study your hand once again. 
“’Lovely madam’?” Usopp repeated sarcastically, his eyebrows pulling together. “What about offering her super buff, brave, and heroic opponent an ice-cold beverage instead?” 
“Nope,” Sanji corrected, popping the 'p'. “Ladies first Usopp. Always.” 
Even after knowing Sanji for a couple of months now, his consistent chivalry always managed to make your heart flutter.  
You laughed lightly and couldn’t help but smirk as you said with a matter-of-fact, teasing tone, “Just say you wish you were a girl, Usopp. No judgment here.” You paused for a moment before asking, “You got the five of spades?” 
“Now even though I would make an extremely attractive, gorgeous woman, I am a man through and through.” A grin broke out on Usopp’s face as he glanced at his hand and triumphantly called out, “Go fish, y/n.” 
“Fair enough,” you hummed as you reached for a card. “And yes Sanji, I would love a glass of cold water. Thank you.” You shot a quick look of gratitude the chef’s way as you took a card from the deck. 
Sanji placed the two glasses onto your makeshift barrell-table top he was holding in his left hand and started filling up the glasses with water. “Of course. Anything for the missus.” 
Missus. Ugh. It made your heart skip a beat to hear him call you that. But you knew he didn’t really mean anything by it. It was just how Sanji spoke, forever the gentleman. 
“Oof. If you keep sweet talking like that Sanji, you’re going to even make me blush, just like y/n,” Usopp joked. 
Your eyes widened as your eyes snapped to look at your dumbass crewmate and friend sitting across from you. “I- I am not blushing Usopp!” God, if you both were using a real table instead of a barrel right now you would’ve broken his shine with your foot. You really weren’t blushing before but Usopp’s stupid comment definitely made your cheeks heat up now. “It’s the heat,” you hissed.  
“’Heat’,” he mocked with air quotes and snorted. “Right.” 
“I-” before you could defend yourself, Sanji spoke up. 
“Actually,” the blonde chef chimed in with a light laugh as he filled the second glass, “that’s why I came over in the first place. You were looking a little flushed y/n, so I thought you guys could use a cold drink.” 
Sanji’s words caused both you and Usopp to look up from your cards simultaneously, making eye contact with each other. A mischievous grin started to form on Usopp’s face as he saw the blush deepen on your face. You quickly looked back to your hand, suddenly finding the eight of clovers card extremely interesting.  
Sanji saw you looking flushed? He saw you? From across the deck? From inside the kitchen’s window? He was watching you play cards? The thought of Sanji watching you when you didn’t expect him to made your stomach erupt in butterflies, and it certainly didn’t make your stupid little crush on him go away. Just the opposite. In fact, it just fueled your delusional fantasy even more.  
And it certainly didn’t help that the only person who knew about your crush on the head chef just so happened to have a big mouth and loved to tease you about it any chance he got. And that he was sitting right across from you right now, watching all of this unfold right in front of him. 
“Oh? So you were watching y/n and I play cards out here?” Usopp innocently asked his blonde crewmate, but you knew better. There wasn’t an ounce of true curiosity in his tone whatsoever. 
“Yeah, from the kitchen,” Sanji answered casually as he recapped the glass water bottle. 
“Usopp,” you warned. 
“And you said that she looked ‘flushed’?” Usopp asked, quirking a brow at the end of his question as he turned his gaze from you to Sanji. 
Sanji blinked in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together for a second before looking down at his crewmate. “Yeah...” he said slowly before continuing, “Her cheeks looked a little pink so I figured-” 
“Oh?” Usopp asked, his voice becoming louder. “You noticed the color of her cheeks, from that far away?” 
“Usopp,” you hissed louder but it fell on deaf ears. Once your friend got on a roll, there was little anyone could do about it. Especially when it came to teasing you about your feelings for Sanji. 
“Yeah,” Sanji replied to Usopp’s question with a confused smile. “What are you-” 
“GO FISH!” you blurted out loudly, cutting Sanji off and having both men turn their eyes towards you.  
“Huh?” Usopp blinked his eyes at you, suddenly remembering the game in front of him. “But I didn’t even ask you anything y/n. And you just drew a card, so it’s your turn to ask me.” 
You let out a quiet sigh of relief at the fact that Usopp stopped grilling Sanji with all of those embarrassing questions right in front of you....even though you couldn’t help but perk up at the fact that Sanji in fact had been watching you from the kitchen, and that he was sweet enough to bring you (and Usopp) some water.  
“Well, I tried,” you shrugged and lied, “but you just kept yapping so you didn’t hear me. Do you have the Queen of hearts?” 
Usopp studied you for a brief moment before looking at his cards, smirking to himself. “You know y/n, it’s funny you asked about the Queen of hearts,” he said as he plucked the requested card from his hand and reached out to give it to you, “since you make heart eyes yourself whenever you look at-” 
“GOOD game Usopp!” you practically yelled as you threw your cards down onto the barrel and stood up, hoping your outburst drowned out the name Usopp was about to so stupidly blurt out. You shook his free hand with both of yours as you said, “You totally win my friend.” 
“What?” Sanji laughed slightly as he watched you and Usopp shake hands. The poor guy was as confused as ever. “But the game isn’t over.” 
You looked Usopp dead in the eye as tightened your grip on his hand. “Oh no, it’s over. He definitely won.”  
Yeah, he won alright. He won the game of making your life a living hell and embarrassing you in front of Sanji. He won the gold medal in that game. 
“I sure did,” Usopp agreed triumphantly, putting his cards down. 
You dropped his hand and took the glass of cold water that Sanji had so generously poured, the cold glass making you feel better already. “Thank you for this Sanji. I think I’ll go enjoy this on my hammock inside.” 
You couldn’t bear to look at Sanji, feeling humiliated for no reason with your face on fire, you stepped away from the barrel sipping your water as you made your way across the deck towards the ship’s living quarters.  
“Yeah, that’s a good idea y/n!” Usopp called, giddy from the high that could only come from successfully teasing a friend. “Maybe that’ll help calm down your flushed face!” 
Before stepping inside, you flipped off a laughing Usopp, completely missing the brief look of disappointment in Sanji’s eyes as he watched you go. 
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solarisfortuneia · 15 days
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— 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞.
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✦ in need of a kiss? well, feel free to pick an experience from our finest collection! perhaps you’ll find one suited perfectly to your tastes?
(or, in other words, the types of kisses they give, and what it’s like to kiss them.)
✦ featuring: aventurine, dr. ratio, jing yuan.
✦ warnings: very kiss focused, not proofread.
✦ notes: these characters with this concept were particularly inspiring today, so i jotted down a little something really quick (might add more characters later in a pt. 2 later? idk)
also forgive me for any characterization errors please i'm still studying them
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aventurine.
his kisses are greedy. 
he’s greedy, far too greedy, and selfish to boot— he wants everything you have to give, all for himself. he tastes like a burst of citrus on your tongue, always, always keeping you on your toes, his lips sneakily capturing everything they can, right down to the slightest sound that leaves your lips.
he wants as much of you as he can possibly get, and he’s perfectly capable of drawing it all out from you, bit by bit. he just needs the right bargaining chip, and he has it already, doesn’t he? 
a kiss, for a kiss.
 a fair trade, wouldn’t you say?
(he doesn’t make deals that don’t pay off, after all. and this thing he’s doing with you? well, it sure is raking in the profits.)
veritas ratio.
dr. ratio doesn’t do things in half measures. when he kisses you, it’s all or nothing; he will put his all into it.
he doesn’t confine himself to your lips, either. the philosophy is simple: what kind of learning would one hope to achieve by limiting themselves?
his hands travel all over, learning the wheres, the whens and the hows, almost as if he’s trying to see how you tick, while his lips embark on a journey of their own across the skin of your face, your jaw and your neck.
he kisses with diligence and precision and passion, meticulous and methodical, quickly adapting his methods to even the slightest of hints you send his way. every action he does is intentional and deliberate, so why should this be any different? 
oh, but make no mistake, for all his versatility and straightforwardness, he will not make it easy for you to keep up with him. 
but you can take a challenge, can’t you? 
jing yuan.
he is gentle, he is soft, he is slow— he kisses in the way that honey flows; lazy, languid, almost hypnotizing, like he has all the time in the world. he savors you the same way he savors the tea that lends his lips the subtle bitterness they carry, but they taste sweet all the same.
when he pulls away, a smile graces his face, one that lights up his eyes with adoration. soft as they are, they still command your undivided attention with the way you cannot seem to tear your gaze away from him. his hands still remain on your person though, holding you impossibly close.
and when he tenderly cradles your face in his palms, worries evaporate into air, thoughts slip away to spaces unknown, and moments stretch into lifetimes.
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bysaber · 7 months
Text
weeping dragon
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pairing: neuvillette x fem!reader
summary: neuvillette thinks he isn’t deserving of your love.
content: cliche !!!, reader trapped in his house bc of rain, lil antsy but happy ending
wc: 800
a/n: mm hii!! first fic here! I hope you enjoy it I kind of wrote it in twenty minutes and I’m just publishing it without beta reading bc (we die like men) I’m just too in love with neuv and I want to share it with the world lolol
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Neuvillette couldn’t bring himself to even think about making a move.
He kept many secrets, and every time he faced your bright smile he would remember it was not his place to disturb your peace. After all, how could a young woman like you endure the dangerous claws of a dragon?
You had stopped by his house to discuss the latest trial and his emotions got the best of him, causing a rain to start pouring.
A storm was approaching; lighting was seen through the window and low thunders could be heard. Neuvillette plagued himself under his breath, hoping there would be a day where he could better control his feelings.
“Here,” he said as he handed you the cup of tea. You watched the lighting curiously, “I do not think the storm will pass for a few hours. You should stay. For the night, I mean.”
You took the cup of tea and averted your eyes from the window to Neuvillette’s face. You studied him with caution, as if it was the first time you ever saw the man — even though you worked together for many months.
“Are you okay?” you asked, ignoring completely his offer.
The words got stuck in his throat and, for a few seconds, he really thought he wouldn’t answer. The man sipped on his tea, his mind racing while trying to figure out why you would ask that all of the sudden. “May I ask why are you asking me such a question?”
It was a small gesture, but he saw it all the same; the way you flexed your hand. There was something you wanted to grab?
Something you wanted to hold?
“They say… It rains when the Hydro Dragon weeps. Yeah, that's what they say,” you murmured and once again looked out the window. To the storm. “The Hydro Dragon. That would be you, right?”
Neuvillette almost choked on his tea, every part of his body malfunctioning and leaving him with only one thing for sure: in his entire existence, this was the first time he was left completely and utterly speechless.
Your warm and comforting eyes turned to him, and you grabbed his cup of tea to put it alongside yours on the coffee table. “Neuvillette,” you spoke his name as if it was a piece of poetry you were yet to learn — eager to do so, “Talk to me.”
And then— your hands, so small and fragile if compared to his, touched him. Your fingers traced his, and you embraced his hand between yours. He could feel the warmth of your skin contrasting against his cold one, pulling him closer, closer, closer.
“When did you figure it out?” was the first thing he said, scared it may be recent. If so, there still is time for you to run, for you to escape. To turn your back and never see him again. It’s probably the best for you, he knows, but this little selfish part in him can’t stand the thought of seeing you gone.
“A month ago or so, it doesn't matter,” you’re quick to cut the subject. “I didn't mention it because I knew you didn't want me to. I’m just worried, that's all.”
Worried.
She is worried.
The realization clicks in Neuvillette’s mind, for the first time in so long acknowledging that maybe, just maybe, he was too, deserving of someone’s concern and care.
“You are saying it does not matter,” he repeats as if to confirm what he just heard.
I pushed you because I cared about you. I pushed you because you made me feel good and comfortable. I pushed you because I thought my true self would frighten you.
Yet, you’re here. And you’re telling me it doesn’t matter.
“It doesn’t. Never did,” you frown. “I just wanna know, no— I need to know why it is raining, Neuvillette. Why would you weep? I’m here with you, talk to me.”
Without giving it a second thought, Neuvillette’s right hand finds your lower back and in a split second you're pressed against his chest, the tightest hug you have ever been given. He’s much taller than you, and you can feel perfectly as he inhales your scent and hugs you tightly.
“Neuv—”
“I thought I had to restrain myself from you. I thought I was no good,” he finally speaks his mind, distancing himself enough for you to see his face; the weeping Dragon. Oh, the melancholy in his eyes.
The eyes of someone who almost lost something precious.
“Neuvillette,” you whispered. “There’s nothing better for me than you.”
And it was true; so you pulled on his hair just enough to have him connecting your lips, a sigh of relief escaping him as if there was nothing in this world he had anticipated more.
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demonvibez · 8 months
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Hello, I came here to ask you a request: Mc is wearing a pajama (nightgown, little shorts, whatever you want) that shows a little bit too much. So one day, Mc comes down to the kitchen in the middle of the night, taking advantage about the brothers sleeping in their rooms so no one would see her like this, and suddenly, she bump into one of the brothers. How would they react?
A/N: Thank you so much for this request, and sorry for the delay! I started working on it, got writer's blocked, solved the block, then got...inspired, lol. This ended up being like 8 lil narrative one shots. Anyways - This is only part one of two; hope you like! ♡
Characters: [Lucifer / Mammon / Leviathan / Satan] x F! Reader
Word Count: 4.6k+
Rating: Teen [Suggestive Themes]
Tags: suggestive/sexual themes, making out, light petting/groping, reader = she/her pronouns, each demon has a lil backstory
[Part One of Two - Read Part Two Here]
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It was late at night in the House of Lamentation, and you had just finished preparing yourself for bed. You had finished your homework for the day, as well as your nighttime routine, and it was time for you to settle down. Just as you sit down on the edge of your bed, you start thinking about how it would be nice to have a quick little snack before you turn in to sleep for the night. Picking up your DDD from the nightstand, you check the time to see just how late it was. You decide that it was probably late enough for everyone to be asleep, and it was safe to venture out into the house alone with what you are wearing - a skimpy spaghetti strap tank top and tiny shorts that leave little to the imagination. You push yourself up off the bed and cross the room, making your way towards the door. Leaving your bedroom door open, you make your way towards the kitchen next door . . .
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For the Avatar of Pride, staying up late and overworking himself was a normal part of his daily routine. Usually after dinner, he hides himself away in his study so that he can start working his way through the mountains of paperwork sent to him from his superiors. Usually every night, he has the same routine - he finishes his RAD related paperwork, takes a break to patrol the House, stops by the kitchen for a cup of Hell Coffee and then back up to his study to deal with the paperwork associated with his political duties. 
Lucifer starts making his way down the hall for his nightly rounds through the House, as he normally does at this hour. He usually does this in order to make sure his brothers’ mischief was kept at a minimum, but it’s in order to keep you safe as well. He couldn't help but to notice that the chaos in their House had increased quite a bit since you had arrived - some of it from his brothers dragging you into their antics, some of it chaos created all on your own, and some of it external chaos that seeks to consume your beautifully shiny soul. When you first arrived here, you used to be a major source of his headaches. He used to struggle with how to punish you, seeing as you were the fragile little human sent here for Lord Diavolo's exchange mission. But now, the more Lucifer thinks about you, he cannot deny to himself the fondness that has grown for you within his heart. A smile twitches at his lips for a brief moment before he refocuses himself on his task.
Just as he is making his way down the stairs to check the first floor, he hears a noise coming from the kitchen area, a faint glow emitting from its frame and spilling into the hallway. He lets out an exasperated sigh to himself, believing it to be Beelzebub on one of his frivolous late night snack missions. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he strides towards the kitchen door, scripting the lecture he wants to give in his mind as he walks. How many times must he punish the Sixth Born? 
When he reaches the doorway, he halts at the unexpected sight before him, and he can’t help but to stand back and observe. He sees you in the kitchen, illuminated by the light of the refrigerator, looking through what’s left of its contents for a snack. You look so innocent while doing so, completely unaware of your surroundings. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this - hell, he wasn’t even used to seeing you dressed like this. Usually dressed in your RAD uniform, the attire you were currently wearing is much more revealing than what he is used to seeing you in. The way the thin cotton fabric clings to your curves, he couldn't stop his eyes from roaming your entire body. You grab something from the fridge, closing it before making your way over to the kitchen island with the leftover Acidic Hell Fries you found. Sitting down with your back turned to the door, you open up the tray and lean in to take a bite, all the while Lucifer can’t help but notice the way your shirt rides up the arch of your back, the way the waistband of your shorts sit right at your hip, the way your skin just looks so soft. He wasn’t sure how a human could stir up such emotions in him, but he was in fact curious to see where it would take him. 
In a rare moment of impulsivity, Lucifer swiftly makes his way towards you. Before you even have time to register the Avatar of Pride's presence, he sets both of his hands on the table on each side of you, effectively trapping you between him and the counter. He leans down closer to your ear, the scent of his cologne filling your senses, as he whispers your name into your ear with a very seductive tone. "What do you think you're doing here," he asks, his tone husky as you can feel the warmth of his breath fanning against your skin. Your pulse accelerates as he presses his lips to your earlobe, his gloved hands now slowly finding their way around your waist as Lucifer trails light kisses down the soft flesh of your neck. You would usually have some sort of snarky comeback for Lucifer, stating how it was obvious why you were in the kitchen shoveling fries into your face at half past midnight. But in this moment you couldn't muster up a retort, your brain beginning to fog up with the haze of pleasure that Lucifer's touch can bring. As he continued to tease your neck, occasionally nipping at it with his fangs, his hands began to drift lower on your body, lightly teasing at your waistband. One of his hands pulls your chin up to him, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips collide with yours in a way that sets your soul ablaze with passion.
He slowly pulls away from the kiss, your eyes slowly opening to see his crimson orbs gazing back at you with lust, love and admiration. He slightly loosens his hold on you, before turning you around on the barstool you sat upon to face him. He brushes the hair out of your eyes, tucking it back behind your ear before leaning down to press one more kiss on your lips. When he pulled away this time, you chased his lips with his own, filling him with a sense of pride at the idea that you're craving more of him - much like he craves more of you. He lets out a small chuckle before suddenly sweeping you up in his arms, your legs dangling over one side while your arms instinctively wrap around his neck for safety.  "We're heading straight to my room," he said along with your name in a confident tone, "and I hope you have plenty of energy, because we won't be getting much sleep tonight." He carried you out of the kitchen and up the stairs, taking no time getting you to his room and into his silk sheets. 
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Mammon had just recently arrived home about an hour ago from one of his many side hustles he did to help earn some extra Grimm and pay back a few of his debts. The witches have been hassling him even more than normal recently, threatening a variety of curses if he doesn't comply with their demands, so he's had to take up multiple side hustles in order to make enough money. He could have sworn he paid them off a while ago - math is one of Mammon's strong suits and he always keeps his debt ledger up to date. He's pretty damn sure the witches are just jealous of you, and take it out on him one of the few ways they know will work. They would never mess with you directly - and risk earning the wrath of all seven Avatars of Sin? And perhaps even the Future King of the Devildom himself? Hell nah. They'll just keep toying with Mammon the way they know best.
Normally, Mammon would be pretty exhausted after a grueling shift of serving tables at Hell’s Kitchen, but tonight for some reason, he was feeling restless and couldn’t seem to settle down. He had completed his nightly routine and settled into bed, but he found himself feeling restless, scrolling Devilgram instead and finding himself growing bored rather quickly. After tossing and turning in his bed for what felt to him like an eternity, he let out an annoyed groan and pushed himself out of bed. If he couldn’t lull himself to sleep, he might as well go find his favorite human. He crossed the room to pick up his designer underwear and sweatpants off the couch, slipping them both on before making his way to the door. Once his door is closed, he starts briskly but silently making his way across the hall and down the stairs, doing his best to avoid running into any of his brothers - namely, Lucifer. 
Making a beeline straight for your room, Mammon notices the door is open and just walks inside as if he owns the place. “Oi, human! I’m bored, why don't ya-” he says, before looking around to see that the room is actually empty. “Where the hell even are ya,” he mumbles to himself with an exasperated huff, turning about-face and exiting your room. As he steps out into the hallway, he finally notices the kitchen light is on. He starts stomping his way over to the kitchen, mumbling something about how much work it is to watch after one stupid little human, when he crosses the threshold of the door and almost bumps into you as he is turning the corner. "Aye, what gives," he says in an almost shouting tone, "ya gotta watch it, human! Ya gotta be more careful! Ya ain't always gonna have the Great Mammon to..." he trailed off as he finally looks down at you, taking in fully just how you look and what you are wearing. His eyes widen and his jaw drops, standing there completely frozen in shock as his eyes scan you up and down repetitively. 
Despite the many times the two of you have shared a bed, he has never seen you wear something so small and form fitting as pajamas before. Usually when he was over, you'd just wear an oversized tee shirt and some baggy sweatpants, which was usually cute and endearing in its own way. But tonight, since you assumed you would be spending the night alone, you wore something you thought no one would see you in. And now here you are in the kitchen, the Avatar of Greed stood in front of you, a blushing and stammering mess. The more of his golden eyes took in of you, the more he could feel the greed rise up within him. Every little inch of skin, every little curve of your body has Mammon craving more and more, his avarice knowing no bounds when it comes to you. Typically, in moments like these, the tsundere side of Mammon's brain would kick in, and a flurry of denials would leave his lips before you could even playfully accuse him of anything. Seeing you like this has Mammon forgetting all about those silly habits, his mind focused on wanting only one thing - you.
In this moment, Mammon can't help but succumb to his greed. His hands reach out to pull you into his bare chest, his demon form now on full display and eyes glowing as gold as Grimm. His arms tighten around you in a possessive hold as he buries his face in your hair, your scent as intoxicating to him as the most expensive Demonus on record. You feel his hands roam your body, feeling both his soft skin and his rings' hard metal gliding up and down your back. You melt into his touch, your arms instinctively wrapping around his torso.  "I've been lookin' for ya," he mumbles into your hair. Before you can even fathom a response, Mammon's hands find their way under your ass, hoisting you up and setting you on the counter. He leans in and presses his lips to yours with a sense urgency you hadn't seen from the Avatar of Greed previously, his yearning and need for you growing with each kiss. As his tongue brushes your lips, they part and allow him entrance, and the way your two tongues dance with each other sends Mammon over the edge, feeling that same greed start to build within you. Mammon's kisses became hungrier and sloppier the more he could feel his sin in the air, a hint of lust mixing with it as his hands squeeze your ass, your own hands roaming his beautifully brown torso. "Mine," he states simply, as he breaks the kiss momentarily. 
He picks you up once again, your legs squeezing his waist as you fling your arms around his neck. He runs off with you to his room to have his way with you - and to hoard you to himself like the Devildom's finest treasure.
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It wasn’t at all unusual for Leviathan to stay up all hours of the night. On this night in particular he was counting down the hours until the newest merch drop from his favorite idol group, Sucre Frenzy. He picks up his Bufo Egg Milk Tea to take a sip, only to hear the slurping sound of his cup being empty. Looking at the clock at the bottom right of his monitor, he mentally notes that he still has an hour and a half before the drop, which should be more than enough time to run downstairs and raid the fridge. He presses pause on the song he was listening to on Devilfy, pulling off his headset and making his way out of his bedroom door. He pulls his DDD out of the pocket of his hoodie, swiping it open and pressing on the 'Mononoke Land' app. Checking to see if there were currently any in-game spirits lurking in the House, Levi games as he presses forward towards the kitchen, his own IRL mission falling to the back of his mind as he continued to focus on the side quest on his phone. One hand in his pocket while the other clutches his device, his tail slides along the handrail of the staircase, making sure he doesn't stumble as he tunes out the rest of the world. 
He really hopes you can make it to hang out for the drop tonight! When he invited you at dinner you seemed interested, but you told him you weren't sure if you'd be able to stay awake that late or not. He would really love it if you are able to - everything is more enjoyable for the Lord of Shadows when he has his Henry by his side! It makes him excited even thinking about it! Maybe he'll swing by your room on the way back from the kitchen and see if you're awake! Or...that maybe awkward? What if you're asleep and he wakes you up? What if he annoys you? Maybe he'll just send you a text instead. Either way, he loves you more than all of his anime combined, and it would be the highlight of his entire month to spend tonight's event with you.
Refocusing on his game, he turns the corner to cut back towards the kitchen. He doesn't even notice the kitchen light on ahead, nor does he hear the clattering and clanking coming from inside. All he can seem to focus on is Mononoke Land. As he walks past your room, he does a double take, expecting to see you in your bed. On second glance, he notices you missing from your room, and Leviathan couldn't help but be confused as he pauses in your doorway. It's almost one in the morning and you aren't in your room?! Where in the Devildom could you possibly be?! You're probably hanging out with one of his brothers, aren't you?! You're probably in one of their rooms, in one of their beds, doing Dia knows what while he's down here getting some stupid snacks for his stupid merch drop. 'Stupid stupid stupid I'm so stupid! Of COURSE she wouldn't want to waste time her time with a disgusting otaku like me! IT'S NOT FAIR IT'S NOT FUCKING FAIR!!' A wave of envy washes over him so powerful that he fights everything within himself not to summon Lotan and flood the House. His fists clench his DDD, stressing it from the pressure as his knuckles turn white. His eyes blaze a bright orange as jealousy rages within him like a hurricane brewing over the sea.  
Wanting nothing more than to barricade himself in his room and never come out, Leviathan angrily marched onward towards the kitchen, determined to get his snacks and get the hell back to his room so he can wallow in his feelings. Hastily making his way through the kitchen's threshold, he doesn't see you as he barrels straight into you, knocking you backwards. Before his mind can fully process what's going on, his tail grabs ahold of you, wrapping around your waist and preventing you from hitting the floor. His eyes finally connect with yours, and he realizes that it's you he has run into. A quick scan of the room tells him you had been in here alone, and suddenly he feels foolish for the jealous tantrum he was throwing in his mind. 
"I-I'm s-s-sorry...I didn't see y-you th-" he stammers, now looking down at you to see exactly what you were dressed in. Is this what you normally wear to bed? Levi hadn't ever seen anything like it in real life. The way the fabric highlights all of your best features, putting just the right amount of emphasis on how perfect your curves were...he could have sworn you were drawn by his favorite manga artist. His eyes roamed your body up and down, his face heating up as rapidly as his heart rate is rising. 'OH FUCK, I'm staring aren't I?! She probably hates me, I'm so gross, such a worthless perv, I need to stop staring WHATTHEFUCKDOIDO?!?' he panics internally, his hands starting to tremble. He tilts his head down to focus on the floor, when he finally processes that his tail has been autonomously wrapped around your waist the entire time. "I'M SO SORRY," he half shouts at you, as he starts to unravel his tail. 
Suddenly, Levi takes pause, as he hears you gently call out his name, one of your hands resting on his tail while the other reaches out to stroke his cheek. "Levi...whatever you're thinking right now...stop," you reassured him. Before he could hide his face from you, you leaned in to press your lips to his in a soft but loving kiss. At first, Levi just stands there frozen in shock but after a moment he kisses you back. He's still unsure of what to do with himself - he doesn't want to ruin this moment - but he doesn't want it to end either, so he stands with his hands awkwardly at his sides and pours every ounce of love of passion he can into the kiss. While he may not know what to do with his hands, his tail seemed to enjoy exploring your body, causing you to let out a tiny soft moan when it makes its way around the top of your thigh. You wrap your arms around his neck, continuing the kiss as you press your body against his. 
After a few more moments, the two of you pull away from each other, both trying to catch your breaths. Before Leviathan could even muster a response, you grab his hand, the sweetest of smiles plastered across your face. "Come on, let's go to your room, Levia-chan. I can think of a few ways for us to kill time until your merch drop launches," you said as you start pulling him towards the door. Suddenly you weren't tired, and Levi didn't care about the snacks - with you, he may even end up forgetting about the merch drop.
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Before you had even thought of grabbing a snack from the kitchen, Satan had already made his way down there and was rifling his way through the fridge looking for something suitable to feed his secret kitten friend out in the garden. Earlier in the night, Satan came outside to the garden in order to calm down and let his inner rage subside. He had wanted to spend the remainder of his evening with you curled up in his lap as he reads to you, a warm fire crackling in the fireplace nearby, as the two of you ignore the world for each other and a great plotline - there was no other way he'd rather spend his evening. But of course, his insufferable eldest brother had to stick his prideful nose in where it didn't belong and drag you away, just as he was asking you to join him after dinner. It was almost as if the Avatar of Pride has an extra sense for when Satan wanted alone time with you, always interfering and coming up with some smug excuse as to why you need to be stolen away right when Satan needs you. That pompous ass was always going out of his way to stoke the flames of Satan's wrath on purpose! 'One day he'll get back at that bastard, he'll put him right in his place!'  
Satan continued pacing in circles in the garden, his demon form on full display as rage flows through him like an ice river through one of the lower pits of hell. He wasn't doing the best job at calming himself down at first, you not being there to help ground him, so it was taking a bit longer than normal. It was always so much easier to calm himself with you there - just a few simple words or a quick hug usually doing the trick. But for now he was alone, and he was drawing a blank on what he else should do. He completed one more pace around the garden before, before letting out an annoyed huff and sat himself down on the nearest bench. As he was about to pull out his DDD to text you to see where you were, he hears a rustling in the bushes. His emerald eyes scan the area, no signs of life immediately apparently, before he sees a pair of glowing eyes peer out at him from underneath one of the bushes. A small smile tugs at his lips as it dawns on him who the eyes belong to - one of his stray feline friends that likes to wander through every now and then. He pushes himself up off the bench and slowly crosses over towards the cat, holding out his hand as he tries to coax it out of the bush. The cat immediately starts to back into the bush, shaking it's head at Satan, causing him to take pause. He chuckles to himself as he comes to the realization of what she is asking for - the cat wants a treat. 
Satan straightens himself up, making his way back into the House to find some cat friendly snacks in the kitchen. When he arrives there, he is alone, and makes a beeline straight for the fridge. It was usually wishful thinking for anyone in the House of Lamentation to try to hide food in the kitchen, but sometimes Satan was able to get away with it for the sake of his kitten buddies. Crouching down to open the bottom drawer, Satan reaches in to pull out some of the Devildom cat treats he had stashed back behind the drawer. Setting the pouch of treats on the counter, he opens up one of the cupboards and pours what is left of the treats onto a saucer, before tossing the empty wrapper in the trash and making his way towards the kitchen door. Little did he expect in all of this, you came walking through the door at the same time, neither of you really paying attention. Before either of you can stop yourselves, you quite literally run into each other, the saucer of meaty cat treats smooshing against Satan's chest and then dropping to the floor. Satan can feel his wrath rising inside him once again, drenching him like an ice cold shower, his aura turning dark as his demon form makes an appearance once again. He hasn't even looked up to see who caused the collision, assuming one of his brothers is to blame yet again, his jaw clenching as his mind races to formulate it's retaliation. 
His glowing green eyes finally lift to see exactly who the guilty party is, only for his eyes to meet yours instead. You begin to stammer out a stream of apologies, but seeing you immediately calms the inner turmoil of his mind, the storm suddenly calm within him. 
His gazes roams over you for a moment, Satan suddenly finding himself speechless as he takes in exactly how breathtaking you look in such casual attire. The way straps of your tank top accentuate your collar bones, giving way to how the fabric hugs your perfect chest...Satan suddenly couldn't remember what he was mad about in any point in the day. He couldn't even bother to care why he was in the kitchen in the first place. He gently takes one of your hands with both of his, raising it to his lips to press a kiss into your knuckles. A warm smile spreads across his face as his hands find your hips, pulling you closer into him. One of his hands moves to rub the small of your back as the other tilts your chin upwards to him. He holds your gaze for a moment, adoration apparent in his eyes, before he leans in to share a passionate kiss with you. 
The moment his lips caress your own, your heartbeat goes through the roof, and you can't help but to lean into him and melt into his touch. His hand on your chin moves to hold the back of your neck, his tongue brushing your bottom lip, asking for more. Your hands find themselves on his chest as your lips back, your tongues clashing together in a desperate bid to feel more of each other. Your hands slide down his chest and abs, lightly tugging at his belt when you get to his waist. He chuckles into the kiss before nipping at your bottom lip with one of his fangs, grabbing your hips with both hands as he slows the pace of the kiss. 
Eventually he breaks the kiss, resting his forehead on yours. "You always know how to make me feel better, kitten," he said as you slide your hands up his front and lace them behind his neck. "What do you say we retreat to my room to continue this encounter?" he leans in to steal one more kiss from you lips before taking you by the hand and pulling you up to his room.
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· demonvibez ♡ 2023 · do not copy, repost or modify ·
· likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! ♡ ·
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screampied · 1 month
Note
Not sure if this is too specific but I NEED top geto that lets fem!reader top him just for once thinking reader would fail but geto immediately gets humbled !!! Not to mention geto is definitely very very vocal !!!!🤭
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❤︎ ໋𓈒 cocky geto find the idea of you topping him adorable but he soon gets humbled quickly
warnings. fem! reader, cowgirl, praise, dirty talk, hair pulling, unprotected sex, choking geto, mdni.
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“baby, are ya sure,” he’d hum with a coy grin, leaning back against the cushioned sofa. he had the look is pure amusement plastered on his face. his tone and the way he structured his tone to make himself tease you even further made you lightly pout. with a hand gripped against your waist, he runs a thumb against your bare skin. “you…you wanna ride me?”
“you don’t think i can?” you furrow your eyebrows, just barely hovering over him. geto has a free arm stretched against the edge of the couch, eyeing you up and down with a sly grin.
he swiftly shakes his head. “i’m not saying that baby, i jus’ think it’s cute.”
“cute.” you repeat, giving him a brief deadpan before you start to align yourself. you intake a breath…feeling his leaky tip marginally brush against your entrance. geto liked getting underneath your skin whenever he could, but you wanted to show him how wrong he was.
geto snickers at your reaction, softly grazing his thumb repeatedly down your side before he murmurs in a soft raspy tone, “prove me wrong then.”
“i’m going to, suguru. so shut up and lie the fuck back.”
“y-yes ma’am.” he suddenly stammers, feeling your hand lightly go around his throat. you slowly rock forward against him, and geto leans back, getting turned on from the grip you had.
his back leans against the cushion before he stares at you, a sudden cold sweat running down him metaphorically. “shit, you’re serious?”
and despite everything, he still had a coy grin poking against his lips. the feeling of your hand that went around his neck, it made his dick twitch a bit. you choking him briefly. adding just a bit of pressure, you drag a thumb, rubbing up against his adam’s apple. “i like your confidence princess, but—”
“suguru,” you grumble, and the moment you start to sink down on his thick base, he lets off a grunt. in the midst of your pussy taking him fully, you move your hips forward a bit—a quick jerk to make him eat his words. geto’s head goes back, feeling your hand still around his neck.
“if—if you’re gonna choke me, at least do it harder princess.” he grunts, a left hand of his snaking towards your ass. you nearly slip off a moan, remembering how handsy he was. he grips your ass before giving it a light spank.
a brat even till the very end.
with a swift eyeroll, murmuring a, “fine,” you squeeze his neck a little bit tighter — geto looks so pretty underneath you.
once you start up a rhythmic pace, his groans become more vocal. the grip your cunt made against him had him nearly in shambles.
geto’s smirk never fades. you start to grind against him in such a way that he just can’t shut himself up.
he’s balls deep, stirring up your insides to where you lean right up against his chest to nip near his neck. soft chaste kisses.
“fuckkk, good. kiss my neck, jus’ like that.” and his voice, it was a pitchy low. a bit of rasp underneath it, he continued to pause every few seconds to swallow and he’s panting.
heavily…
the way your skin slaps and clouts ruthlessly on his thigh turns him on entirely so.
the recoil of your ass—geto was forevermore a handsy man. he’d run and trace his fingertips on your skin, low husky grunts skidding past his spit-glossed lips each second.
he loved grabbing your ass as it fucked back against him. you studied his facial expressions. such a pretty man. his hair was a mess, it wasn’t tied up so strands just went all across his face as you rode him. purely occluding his vision.
“…mhm, you’re such a tease,” he murmurs, feeling you start to playfully suck on his neck. geto’s thigh starts to bounce idly in the background and you press your hands on his chest.
he had an abashed expression, eyes half-lidded, and speaking of eyes…his dark irises, they were dilated. all because of you.
his pretty girl that was making him eat his words up. he catches you starting before scoffing.
“f-fuckkk me,” he huffs out, feeling you vigorously clamp down on him again and again. it had him dizzy, mind unintentionally spasming,
your perfume scent making his heart race. “grippin’ me so tight, ‘s no fair.”
massaging the middle part of his neck, you lean in to kiss geto.
he returns the gesture, his tongue moving against yours and he moans. it’s more of a whiny moan if anything. jerking your hips slightly, he squeezes a hand against your waist—huffing and puffing.
he felt a bundle of nerves surge all through him. the way you moved back and forth against him, a groan gets caught in his throat and before he knew it, he starts to feel himself coming close. that quick.
“y-you’re gonna,” he breathes, his chest kept heaving and heaving..
geto’s bare chest, a few dark hairs of chest hair decorating his skin. you hum, dragging a finger down his chest, giving his perky nipples a playful pinch to watch him whine. “gonna make me cum too quick, s-shit.”
“what happened to your confidence, sugu?” you mutter, keeping up a pace. you start to quicken a bit to where he can barely keep up.
geto could barely register anything, his mind—it was ditzy. thinking of nothing but the way you pussy soaked down on him, clenching stupidly around his cock. “you said i couldn’t ride you, baby.”
“you still can’t,” he pants, trying to keep up his façade but you could literally hear from his tone.
he was so close to the edge. feeling you play with his nipples, geto bites his tongue. “i-im sensitive there, woman… you’re so f-fuckkk..”
you smile, nipping near his neck again before he groans—eyes rolling back, he gnaws on lip as he feels his orgasm unsteadily approaching.
your hips, the rhythm it had made him so woozy. he wanted more, he brings you in for a kiss again, and you move some of his long strands from his hair.
geto shivers, feeling you ride against him faster before within seconds…it happens.
he shoots right inside your gummy walls, a raspy groan departs from his lips once he feels himself pouring right into your cunt. dumping such a thick loud, you slow down your hips to stare at geto.
“don’t… don’t look at me.” he retorts, a near pout going against his lips. he wasn’t use to this, you getting the higher up on him.
you giggle, pressing a plethora of kisses near his nose at how he came too early. he grunts, the second you inch closer towards him, his dick that was still inside you twitched. pumped so full, you felt him coat your walls with every drop. “give… gimme another kiss, i need it.”
“you don’t need a kiss, geto,” you tease, being more of a chaff by refusing for a second.
as you moved closer towards his lips. he lets off a needy whine, his glossed lips were so trembly. he wanted more of your taste… so much. “if you want it that bad, just say pretty please.”
his eyes narrow at you, still letting off breathy pants before replying with a grouchy. “…no.”
“then you’re not getting a kiss.” you snicker with a shrug, watching the pout go against his lips again.
it was cute, seeing him try to keep up this bratty act. but not even seconds later, he deeply sighs with an adorable half eye roll. “okay, okay…. um. give me a kiss. pretty please. f-fuck, i want you.”
“good boy,” you mutter, giving him a quick kiss that he barely blinks. he wants more of you.
geto’s face flushes hard from the sudden pet name, and he groans once he feels you reach down towards his dick still perfectly buried inside you. you realign yourself, giving him another long kiss before briefly departing, softly uttering a, “now lie back, baby. ‘m not finished.”
“this…doesn’t mean anything by the way,” he tries to elucidate, yet shuts up the moment you softly wrap your hand around his neck. geto leans back, going manspread before with a pant, he smiles—still a brat. “but.. do your worst, baby. finish fucking me then. if you can, h-heh.”
2K notes · View notes
perlelune · 3 months
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Creep | Oliver Quick
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Though you can’t grasp exactly what, you know something is very off with your boyfriend’s peculiar new friend.
Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, Stalking, Voyeurism, Cheating, Coercion, Blackmail, Drinking, Smoking, Unhealthy Relationship Dynamic
This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.
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Felix’s long digits drum over your back as he pouts, “You really brought me here just to study, babe?” His raspy, flirtatious tone tugs your lips skyward. Still, your attention doesn’t stray from your laptop screen. Sentences bleed from your fingertips at a quick-fire pace. A little under three thousand words on Bentham’s theory of utilitarianism, due by Monday. The topic isn’t exactly thrilling but you have to hand it over in time.
“If I don’t ace this essay, I’m going to fail this class,” you absently reply. Failure. The one thing you literally can’t afford right now, though you forbear sharing that particular bit with Felix. Best he perceives your single-minded determination as a core stare of your character rather than what it actually is…a necessity, one born of dire circumstances.
He takes a long drag off his cigarette. Grey smoke floats around you, smudging the words on your screen. You repress tears as your eyes burn. You wished he’d curb the nasty habit. You’ve dropped hints before.
But no one tells Felix Catton what to do. Many would kill to even breathe the same nicotin-infused air as him. Felix is the sun and everyone on campus craves to be in his orbit, eager for the slightest chance to bask in his warmth, shower in his light.
You’re no different. The day he asked you out, a little over a year ago, you pinched yourself twice to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Felix Catton wanted…you? It couldn’t be real. 
This was the boy you held in your heart for a decade, the only one you ever had eyes for.
And while your relationship suffered its share of hardships, namely Felix’s wandering eyes, you couldn’t picture life without him at your side.
He’s your everything.
He could hurt you a thousand times and you’d forgive him each of those times.
Felix’s bare shoulder grazes yours as he states, “They won’t fail you, not with who your dad is.”
Your stomach knots with his comment. Still, you shrug, pretending away the guilt steadily gnawing your insides.
“I don’t want to get special treatment just because of my family name, Felix,” you say, trying your best to sound nonchalant.
Though his smile never falters, his jaw ticks. “And I do?”
The ice in his tone scatters in your veins. Immediately, you discard your homework, concerned gaze finding his.
“I’m not saying that.” When Felix doesn’t respond, panic roars inside you. You touch his exposed chest to bring his attention to you. He doesn’t move. “I didn’t say that.”
A thick blanket of silence engulfs the room and your airways constrict. It feels as if your heart is on the verge of collapse as you wait for a reaction from your boyfriend, his chestnut gaze glued to the ceiling.
His head turns to you slowly. He releases a large puff of smoke in your face. Tears rush to your eyes, filling them to the brim.
Felix shrugs.
“It sounded like you did. A little. But that’s okay.” His tone is mellow in that way that oozes displeasure. “I’m just a legacy kid getting by on his trust fund and good looks, right?”
Your mouth quakes and he bursts out a chuckle. He cups your cheek, a wide grin breaking onto his face. “I’m just fucking with you, babe.”
You swallow your budding tears, wiping your eyes swiftly as Felix reaches around you to put out his cig in the ashtray.
You punch him in the chest, your own laughter bubbling out.
“You’re an arsehole.”
His grin expands. Twining your fingers with his, Felix’s tone gets softer.
“I wanted to ask…” He trails off, brown gaze clinging to yours. “Can Ollie come to the party you and Anabel are throwing tonight?”
You tilt your head in befuddlement. “Ollie?”
He traces the lines in your palm, adding absently, “Yeah, Oliver. I told you about him. Saved my arse when my bike broke.”
“Right, bike guy,” you say, remembrance hitting you. You tilt your head. “What’s he like?”
Felix sighs.
“He doesn't have too many friends.  He's also had a rough upbringing. So I thought we could help him a little, you know?” You study him. However casual your boyfriend attempts to sound, you instantly recognize what this is. Yet another try at playing knight in shining armor. Whoever this Oliver guy is, he’s now become your boyfriend’s side project. His charity case possibly.
“He’s not like us so we could try to be nice.”
Not like us. You mask your discomfort with a bright smile. 
About a year ago, your dad’s company filed for bankruptcy. Thankfully your scholarship still allows you to attend Oxford, but your lifestyle has drastically changed. No more shopping sprees. No more casual leisure trips to Europe. No more frivolous spendings with daddy’s black card.
The last straw was when your father emptied every account, including your trust, and left the country without as much as a goodbye text. Since those events, your mother has taken refuge at the bottom of a whisky bottle. You can barely get a hold of her these days.
So not only are you penniless, you might as well be an orphan. 
Felix is all you have left. You can’t risk him finding out the truth. He can never know about the part time jobs you’ve had to take to cover tuition costs or the small flat your mum had to move into after your father had to sell the family manor. He might think you’re beneath him now, working class, destitute. Or worse, he might pity you, treat you like a charity case too. 
You follow the curve of his dark brow with your thumb, sweeping over his silver stud.
“Hm, sure. I can be nice,” you promise.
“I know you can,” he teases, large hands pulling on your thighs to spread you across his lap.
You squeal before scolding him, “Felix…I really really need to finish this essay.”
His eyes darken with lust as he licks his lips. He wiggles his hips, causing the bulge in his jeans to rub against your clothed center. Your breath hitches. “And I really really need you to take care of this for me.” His hoarse, desperate inflection makes your core clench. His palms run over your thighs beneath your short dress. “Just five minutes? Come on, I’ve been hard for like an hour, babe.”
He hums, already playfully fiddling with the edge of your lace panties.
“It’s your fault for wearing this fucking pink dress. You know the way your ass looks in it drives me crazy.”
You resolve crumbles beneath Felix’s heated stare. You can never tell him no. And he knows that. Releasing a deep sigh, you relent.
“Five minutes,” you offer.
He slides one finger inside your weeping core. As you draw a sharp breath, Felix beams.
“It’s all I need,” he coos.
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The party’s at his height, loud music blasting from the gigantic speakers and glow sticks waving in the pitch blackness of the underground cellar. You thread your way between tipsy students, carrying two cups of beer in your hands. 
As you reach the VIP corner, you hand Annabel her drink. The redhead mumbles her thanks as she bobs her head to the music. You peer at your surroundings, glad to see everyone having fun. 
It’s a frank success. Pride trickles inside you at that. It’s been hard collecting pockets of free time to put it together between classes and assignments. But you did it. 
Truthfully, you’re also craving some fun tonight. All you’ve done lately is studying. You miss the days when you were more carefree, unconcerned about your grades deciding the course of your future.
You glance down at your watch, scowling as you notice the time. He was supposed to be here three hours ago.
“Where’s Felix?” you ask Venetia. Your boyfriend’s sister  lazily opens her eyes, a drunken smile spreading onto her lips. She shrugs. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen him around.” 
You pivot to the rest of the group. 
“Have you guys seen him tonight?”
Annabel shakes her head apologetically while Farleigh brings his blunt to his mouth with a taunting smile.
“Desperate much?” he teases.
“Farleigh, come on,” Anabel chastises. She bumps her shoulder into yours, her expression sympathetic. “Don’t mind him, you know he’s always a jerk after a few drinks.”
Farleigh sighs. “Darling, you know I love you. It was just a joke.”
“A joke, right…” you mumble. Your cheeks heat though you try not to let your feelings show. Still, Farleigh’s words linger in your head. Maybe you’re being too clingy. It’s something you should mind.  What if you became too needy and Felix grew bored of you? It’s not like he wouldn’t find a replacement for you in a heartbeat.
You lie back on the plush couch, sipping from your beer cup as your friends continue their chat. The conversation has long since stopped making sense, fueled by drug-inspired ramblings. Your attention is halved by your straying train of thoughts, the current whereabouts of your boyfriend still at the forefront of your brain.
Another hour flies by before Felix’s towering frame finally pierces through the crowd. A smaller boy trails behind him, his expression mirroring that of a lost puppy. He adjusts his glasses, awkwardly avoiding the drunken bodies around him. The word “Sorry” doesn’t stop pouring from his mouth. 
You realize this must be Oliver. Astonishment flows through you. This isn’t the kind of company Felix traditionally keeps. But you elect to try your best to be nice and welcoming.
It’s what Felix asked of you after all. Besides, entering a new group of people cannot be easy, your tight-knit circle having known each other since kindergarten for some.
You don’t miss Anabel’s fleeting,  condescending glance as she takes in Oliver though. Getting her assent to let him come had been a hassle, as she regards him as some weird, scholarship kid who’d just bring the mood down. But you insisted and she finally caved.
You trade a meaningful look with her, silently nudging her to be nice. The redhead practically rolls her eyes but squeezes her lips shut. Annabel may be one of your best friends but even you’re aware that she can be quite snobbish at times. 
A sullen expression decorates your face as Felix enters the private booth. 
“You’re late,” you blurt out. Farleigh snickers behind you and your cheeks flare. But everything around you fades as Felix grabs your face and presses feverish lips over yours. Your irritation melts in the heat of the passionate kiss. 
When he frees your mouth, his thumb runs over your swollen bottom lip as he explains casually, “Yeah we were just hanging out and we lost track of time.”
He then introduces the shy boy.
“That’s Ollie.”
“Nice to meet you,” he stutters.
“Likewise,’ you reply smiling.
You gauge him. Beneath the large glasses, you note the slanted blue eyes and soft, round boyish features. Felix’s friend is cute. If only he weren’t so painfully awkward. 
“You should sit with us. There’s plenty of space,” you say. 
Felix draws you onto his lap as he sits. Oliver takes a nervous seat next to the two of you. His eyes keep rising to Felix, as if seeking perpetual approval from your boyfriend. You’re a little perplexed. Farleigh hands Felix a spliff and he lets his hand rest on your thigh while taking a long drag from it.
“So, where are you from exactly?” you ask Oliver.
His gaze on you and Felix is sharp, somehow constantly darting to where your boyfriend’s holding you.
“Prescott,” he answers.
You mull over his response. It’s a few hours away from Oxford. You don’t know much about it. Though, based on what Felix implied about the way he grew up, you expected him to originate from a rougher area. Prescott doesn’t seem too awful.
“Prescott? They must be proud of you back home, especially your parents.”
“Probably not, actually.”
Your curiosity is piqued. “Why are you saying that?”
Oliver shrugs. His eyes find the floor before meeting yours again.
“Just don’t talk to them much,” he mutters. “They got problems and stuff…”
You slant your head. “Problems?”
Felix’s hand tightens atop your thigh. “Babe, that’s enough prying, don’t you think?”
“I’m just making conversation, trying to get to know him.”
“You’re embarrassing him, babe.”
Oliver’s blue gaze lifts to yours, his face unreadable.
“No, it’s fine,” he says, though you detect a slight edge to his timbre that wasn’t there before. A small smile tugs his lips. “I don’t mind questions. Got nothing to hide.”
You nod. An icy tickle blooms at the base of your spine, scattering outward as Oliver’s intense focus doesn’t leave you. You turn away, shifting your attention to your boyfriend. Throughout the entire night, a strange sensation thunders through you, like the lightning before the storm. You can’t explain it. It’s like the world shifted off its axis, though you can’t pinpoint the reason.
Thankfully the strangeness is cast aside by Felix’s soft lips and heady, masculine scent. As the party goes on in the background, the two of you sneak away. You end up making out in a dark corner, Felix’s greedy hands slipping beneath your short skirt to grab a fistful of your ass. He pinches your flesh and you squeal.
A warm chuckle spills from his lips as he peppers tender kisses alongside your neck.
“Let’s go back to my dorm,” he whispers.
You readily agree. He takes your hand and the two of you hitch a ride back to campus. The two of you giggle in the backseat of the car every time the driver berates you for getting too handsy with each other. You laugh it off all the way back to his room, lips locking as you cross the threshold. You jump to wrap your legs around Felix’s tapered waist. He purrs, his hands latching around your hips, pulling you closer. He pushes you against a wall, tracing a scorching path in the valley between your breasts. Moaning, you toss your head back. 
As your eyes flutter however, you catch sight of a silhouette standing outside Felix’s window. Your heart bounces, your eyes growing saucer-wide. You gasp and leap away from Felix. 
“What the fuck?” he curses as you race to the window. Chest pulsing with your quick heartbeats, you peel the window open to peek outside. The cold night air whisks inside the room. Goosebumps break out on your skin.
Your gaze wanders, searching the darkness. Confusion swells within you as you find nothing. Nothing but greenery, the same trees and grass flanking your path whenever you stroll through campus. 
“There was someone outside, w-watching us,” you stammer.
Felix’s frustrated breath grazes the back of your neck. “Babe, there’s no one out there.”
You squint, dumbfounded when nothing but pitch blackness stares back at you. For a minute, you really believed someone stood there. In fact, whoever they were bore a peculiar resemblance to…
You catch yourself before finishing the thought.
Now that’s just crazy.
“But I saw…”
Felix shifts your body towards him. He cups your cheeks and rasps, “Hey. Hey, look at me. There’s no one but us here.” His lips collide with yours. He starts groping you again and you push him off  you, stunned that he wants to have sex at a time like this.
“No, Felix, I-I can’t.”
He stumbles back and scoffs, “Oh.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you inquire, glowering at him.
His gaze flicks over you, his expression cold. “All that teasing just to leave me high and dry?”
“Felix, wait…”
He avoids your touch, collecting his jacket from the bed when your fingers stretch towards him.
“It’s fine. I’m just gonna have a smoke. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Your stomach sinks.
“O-Okay,” you say as your hand retreats to your side.
The door slams shut and you collapse on Felix’s bed. Your eyes veer to the window once more. You could have sworn you caught a glimpse of someone. Maybe all those late nights writing essays and revising for the upcoming exams are slowly catching up to you, dragging you to the brink of madness.
Felix doesn’t call you the following day. Of course he doesn’t. You broke the mood. You acted weird. What reason does he have to want to be around you again? It’s bad enough you neglected him in favor of your assignments and club activities for the last few weeks. Now you can’t even enjoy the sparse time you have together.
Still, you flip your phone open all day long, longing for a word from him, any trivial, insignificant word.
You get nothing. 
You gloomily drag your feet around campus and somehow find your way in one of the empty student lounges, save Farleigh and Venetia. Lying flat on the carpeted floor, eyes glued to the ceiling, the two of them are sharing a spliff. You wedge yourself between them, lying on your back also. You steal the roll from Venetia’s fingers and bring it to your lips. Your throat burns and you cough as you inhale a puff. Venetia’s lips curve upward as your eyes water.
“You gotta take it easy the first time,” she says, amusement lighting her olive orbs. “Tiny inhales.” She shows you how and you mimic her gestures. You go slower the second time and a pleasant numbness sets into your limbs. Your eyes shut. You kind of get it now. For the first time in several weeks, your mind’s almost at rest, your stormy thoughts quieted. 
“You don’t smoke,” Farleigh notes near you.
“I am today.”
“You guys will be fine,” Venetia assures. “You’re always fine.”
Your eyes open, settling on the pristine white ceiling. 
“I fucking hate him sometimes.” You pause, sucking a deep breath. “But I love him more.”
“Yep, that’s Felix,” they utter in unison.
You heave out a weary sigh. They grew up with him. They know better than anyone, how sweet and wonderful he can be, but also cruel and careless sometimes.
Just like the sun, Felix’s light can also burn whoever gets too close. 
For a while, the three of you hang out in silence, the spliff switching hands every once in a while. Eventually, each of them rises, leaving you to your mopey thoughts. 
Before taking his leave however, Farleigh whispers in your ear,
“Oh and darling, next time you wear a rental…make sure the price tag isn’t sticking out. It gives you away.”
You sit up immediately. A smile dances on the boy’s lips as he disappears. You grab the back of your neck, face warming as you feel the tag poking through the collar of your shirt.
You nearly forgot you’re due to return the designer piece in two days’ time. You can’t believe someone noticed. Though you suppose if anybody would, it’d be Farleigh. Nothing gets past his keen eye. You surmise it was a necessity with the way he grew up. Learning to read people, knowing what makes them tick, being able to spot a pretender from a mile away…which you are now.
Maybe it’s ludicrous, acting like you can still afford to live like this, like your life wasn’t turned upside down.
Still, you can’t fathom the alternative. The judgement, the pity, from your friends…from Felix. The thought alone makes you sick. The echo of Anabel’s voice as she disparaged Oliver’s background a few days ago never left you. 
Dunno what Felix even sees in him. He’s some weird scholarship kid who buys his clothes at Oxfam.
That was harsh…and made you wonder what your best friend would have to say about your current situation. 
So you’d rather lie, even if you sometimes look like a fool doing so.
You swallow a wide lungful, willing yourself to be calm. You repeat the mantra, again and again. You’re okay. You’re okay. You just need to keep your grades up and get through the semester.
The rest of the week is hell. Felix all but ignores you, not even sparing you a glance when he brushes past you in the university corridors. The itch to talk to him sears inside you. Unfortunately, he’s always surrounded by a swarm of people, the center of attention as usual, making approaching him near impossible. You can’t picture bringing up your relationship problems in front of so many eyes.
Besides, you don’t want to project desperation, Farleigh’s pointed gibe still resonating in your mind. You need to play it cool, wrap yourself in a disguise of indifference…despite the way you wither away every second he’s not texting you back. 
The agonizing wait is made worse by him. He’s everywhere now. Wherever Felix goes, he goes too. Oliver Quick has essentially become your boyfriend’s shadow. Whether in class, at pub meetups, at parties, the quiet, nervous boy  never abandons Felix’s side, always peering up at him with those round baby blues of his, a strange mix of admiration, devotion and…something else you can’t pinpoint etched on his face.
It’s sort of creepy in your opinion. 
Though you’d never say it aloud. For some reason, Oliver’s his new toy. And you’re acutely aware of how Felix is with his toys. He plays with them for a while then moves on to the next fancy, shiny new one. He did it to Eddie before. Now Oliver. 
And maybe it’ll be your turn one day…if you don’t do something. 
It’s how you end up in front of his dorm one night, already tipsy from half a bottle of vodka. Liquid courage to get you to knock on his door. It’s pathetic. Of course it is, but you just can’t wait anymore. 
You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and shaking off your nerves. Your knuckles are less than an inch from the door when a broken whimper reaches you from the other side of Felix’s door. 
Brows furrowing, you place your ear against the wood. You hear a moan this time. Deep, distinctive, masculine…familiar. Your heart stops. 
You plummet to your knees, peering through the keyhole. You feel wrong for doing so, for invading Felix’s privacy like this. But guilt crumbles beneath the weight of heartbreak at what you witness. 
You almost find yourself wishing you hadn’t looked. Almost.
Rivulets of anguish flow down your face as you watch your best friend and boyfriend lip-locked, practically swallowing each other’s faces. Their clothes aren’t off but the urgent way they’re grinding against each other is a dead giveaway as to what’s to come.
Legs trembling, you stumble back from the door. You shouldn’t have come. This was a mistake. You’re a fool.
You drunkenly stagger through the corridors, clinging to the walls each time you almost trip over your own feet.
You wind up slumped on some stairs, too inebriated to carry yourself much further. Your lids sag as you exhale. More hot tears spill down your cheeks. Your chest aches, a knife piercing through your heart as the memory of Annabel and Felix lost in the throes of passion fleets across your brain. Why are you even shocked? It’s not like you never caught Anabel leering at him while she thought you weren’t looking. And it’s not like Felix is some kind of saint. Still, you can’t help but feel massively betrayed. You thought you meant more to him. You thought they wouldn’t…not with each other.
When your eyes flutter open, you find a pair of intense cobalt orbs studying you.
“Oliver…” you mumble. In your drunken stupor, you don’t bother wondering how he got here, seemingly materializing from thin hair.
He hunkers in front of you. His scent tickles your nose and it twitches. The smell of his cologne is so strikingly reminiscent of the one Felix wears. A wave of emotion engulfs you. Sobs shake your frame as you shrink against the wall.
Oliver’s gaze rises to your weeping face as he questions, “Are you okay?”
“M’fine…” you slur, wiping your snotty nose. You must look a fright, a pathetic heap of tears aimlessly wandering the university corridors.
He tilts his head. “You don’t look fine.”
You consider Oliver. He is cute, which you noticed before. And in the dimly lit stairway, his blue eyes burn even brighter. You loathe that Felix is allowed to hurt you the way he did and can just…keep on. If your friends aren’t off-limits, why would his be?
You bat your lashes at Oliver.
“You got any alcohol?”
His lips curve upward as he rasps, “Would you like me to have alcohol?”
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How did you end up there? The question keeps swirling in your head as Oliver’s mouth hungrily devours yours, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you closer. He trails fevered kisses down your neck and you squirm. As his teeth sink into the flesh at the crook of your neck, you let out a sharp cry. You tug on his dark locks and Oliver growls against your skin. The pain mixes with pleasure in your haze. His tongue then circles where he punctured your flesh, dragging slowly as an elated purr rises from his chest. His hard-on presses into your thigh. Alarm bells ring inside your mind.
It’s all a little too real, you realize. You got carried away. You draw back, pushing against his chest. “Oliver, wait…”
You might as well have said nothing, your words falling to unlistening ears as Oliver grabs your wrists and nudges you on the bed on your back. You peer up at him. Lust darkens his blue gaze, making him appear almost inhuman in the darkness.
Your mouth wobbles.
Pinning your wrists at your sides, Oliver kisses you senseless. Soon his lips are tracing a scorching path down your body, his hands moving to peel off your short skirt and panties.
His attentive gaze doesn’t leave yours as he sluggishly drags the tiny layer of lace down your legs.
His throat bobs when your bare cunt is exposed to him.
Biting his bottom lip, Oliver crawls his way to your core. Your legs quake. There is a strange glow in his eyes that sends chills down your back. 
“Oli-” you start, but the protest dwindles in a helpless whimper when Oiver buries his head between your thighs and flicks his tongue against your bundle of nerves. Oliver’s firm hands clasp around your thighs, keeping you in place when you attempt to close your legs. He greedily eats you out, fingers digging into your soft flesh. He suckles your tender button in his mouth and your eyes roll back. Your fingers get lost in his dark mane as your back arches against the sheets. Oliver’s feverish tongue sweeps around your folds and you grow weaker, slumping against the pillow. 
Quickly, stars dangle in your vision. Your fists tighten around the sheets while your legs turn to jelly. A long breath flows from your lips. 
You don’t remember ever coming that hard before, not even with Felix.
Tingles are still dancing over your legs as a sliver of clarity returns to you.
Oliver’s tongue slowly moves, collecting the remnants of your essence off his lips as a look of sheer bliss decorates his face. You shiver.
You try to move off the bed. “I think that’s enough,” you say, folding your knees.
Oliver’s mouth quirks lopsidedly. “Oh, we’re nowhere near done, luv.”
Much quicker than you, Oliver slithers his way up your body and cages you beneath his frame. He steals your lips in a hungry kiss, trapping your wrists above your head. His fingers are tight enough that you just know it’ll bruise. You taste your own bittersweet flavor on his tongue. His hand creeps under your shirt, groping your tits. He plants urgent pecks on your face, dragging his teeth along your jaw.
“Oliver, please…”  you beseech, shock making your voice shake.
He sinks a finger between your slick walls. Your stomach tightens.
Oliver releases your swollen lips and twists his finger inside your core. Your breath hitches.
He smiles down at you.
“But you’re gushing down there, luv. This is what you want.”
Your face warms. You hate that he’s right, that your body clings to him, making space you wish it didn’t…almost inviting his actions.
But Oliver’s mouth and hands are far too good at knowing which buttons to press to turn you into a whimpering mess. Shame pools in your gut as sharp keens leave your lips.
He pumps inside you at a steady pace, his thumb teasing your heap of sensitive nerves every once in a while, pressing until you cry out. He adds another finger and the air in your lungs falters. His hands feel everywhere at once, his teeth and mouth scattering marks all over your body.
He doesn’t stop until you clench around him, soaking his hand with your juices when you shatter with a high-pitched wail.
You crash over the pillows. Your body is still coming off the high. Half-lidded eyes blindly rise to the ceiling. Oliver yanking off his shirt and discarding his pants doesn’t register, not fully, the entire bottle of vodka you emptied before making your mind slow.
He’s suddenly inside you, his thick length splitting you apart as he places his forearms besides your head.
Your lips part in a quiet shout. It feels like if you might break, your walls aching as they stretch around him.
He begins to rail into you, each of his thrusts blunt and animalistic. As if he were possessed by some beast. You know it’s ludicrous. But as the lewd clapping of your damp skin against his rises each time he buries himself balls-deep inside you…it’s how you feel. Like a wild animal somehow broke free and started rutting into you.
Your head lolls against the pillows, your thoughts going blank every time he grazes your sweet spots. Your fingernails rake down his back. 
“Does Felix fuck you like this?” he rasps. He presses his chest against yours, his cock hitting an angle that draws a lengthy moan from you. A crooked smile ghosts over Oliver’s lips. “Or maybe more like this…” 
His warm breath fans over your earshell.
“Tell me luv… How do our cocks compare?”
When you don’t respond, he roughly shoves inside you, his fingers cinching around your windpipe. You gasp in horror, gaping at him through tear-filled eyes.
“Answer me,” he instructs, his voice deeper than before.
“Y-You’re bigger than he is,” you sputter, struggling to get the words out with his hand squeezing your throat. 
A peculiar blend of excitement and disappointment swims in his gaze when you answer.
You weakly claw at his chest, squirming beneath him. He doesn’t let you go, bending to shove his tongue in your mouth. He drags his tongue over your face, licking your hot tears. Sobs jostle your frame.
“Oliver, please,” you repeat.
He shushes you, framing your chin. His thumb follows the outline of your bottom lip, bleeding and swollen from all his rough kisses. 
“Stop fighting it. Be a good girl.” He showers tender pecks across your collarbone before softly whispering against your temple, “Or I’ll tell Felix everything. That you came onto me, begging me to fuck you.” His devilish smile sears into your skin. “I’ll tell him what a good little slut you were for me.”
Your stomach drops. Oliver collects your tears with his fingertips. He shoves his fingers in his mouth, emitting a throaty moan at the taste of your despair. He then dips those same fingers in your mouth, his pelvis snapping into yours.
“It’s beautiful, how much you love him,” Oliver mumbles, growing harder inside you as a fresh wave of tears brim beneath your lashes. “You’re beautiful. I can see why he always comes back.” He rests his forehead against yours, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips. 
“Maybe I’ll keep you for myself when this is all done.”
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The awakening in the early morning is rude, the wicked headache and ache in your limbs reminding you of last night’s events right away. Strips of sunlight sneak between the curtains, caressing your face. The usually pleasant warmth does nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. Your stomach clenches as you peer at your side. Oliver’s completely naked, only wearing the silver chain always around his neck. His arm is lazily spread over your belly. You don’t dare move, fearing he’ll wake up. 
What would you even say?
This is a disaster. You somehow ended up in Oliver’s room and…had sex with him. 
You swallow a shaky sob as your gaze travels low. Your panties are torn, which you didn’t notice last night. At least your clothes can still be worn, lying in a messy heap at the bottom of the bed. Carefully, you writhe your way out of Oliver’s hold and grab your clothes. 
You hastily put your skirt and shirt back on, trying not to cry when you realize you’re going to have to walk back to your dorm without your knickers. Heat rushes to your cheeks. 
You toss a glance behind you, relieved when you find him still sleeping soundly. 
You climb off the bed. Your heart leaps when the mattress squeaks as you rise. 
Pulse quickening, you head for the door. 
Pain radiates through your lower body when you move. You stagger the rest of the way, constantly tugging on your short skirt as you pray not to encounter any strong gust of wind on the way back.
Before leaving,  you look back. 
Oliver’s still sprawled on his side on the bed but his eyes are wide open now. 
No word leaves his mouth as he studies you in silence.
A wide, lazy smile slowly unfans on his lips. 
Your blood turns to ice. Fumbling with the doorknob, you scurry outside the door.
Once you’re outside, you slam the door closed.
You dart panicked glances around the corridor. Relief fills you when you note that it’s empty. For now. It won’t be long before students start milling about.
You shamefully return to your dorm. The entire walk back, paranoia lurks at the edge of your mind. You keep wondering if every stranger you come across can tell what you did.
And you keep hoping not to run across anyone you know.
When you reach your bedroom, you lock the door. You make a beeline for the bathroom. You need a shower, expeditiously. Oliver’s smell still lingers on you. When you catch your disheveled reflection in the bathroom mirror, you’re shocked. You approach the mirror on unsteady legs. You crane your neck, your fingertips skimming over the two puncture wounds on your neck. A cool wave ripples down your back. It’s twisted. You feel like a character in a Polidori’s tale. Except this is reality somehow.
The one where you have to face the fact that you shagged your boyfriend’s new friend…and you’re not even entirely sure that you wanted it. Your mind throbs as you search through your memories. You changed your mind midway through. Oliver did not care.
Oliver did not care…
The ghastly realization has you keel over the toilet bowl to empty the meagre contents of your stomach. You slump to the floor and start quivering over the bathroom floor.
A sudden knock on your door has you rising from the floor.
Your heart skips a beat when you glance through the peephole.
“F-Felix?” you stutter, panic hitting a peak inside you.
His deep voice penetrates through the door.
“Hey, can we talk?” he asks. 
He sounds heartbroken, desperate. You almost unleash a sigh. You recognize this. You’ve been there before. This is a rollercoaster you can never get off of, the thrill when you’re high up entirely too intoxicating.
“Right now is not the best time.”
He heaves out a deep sigh. You can literally picture his kicked puppy expression, even with the door between you two. Your heartstrings flutter as you lean against the door. The craving to toss yourself in his arms wars with the sizzling betrayal still sitting in the pit of your stomach.
“Fuck. Are you still mad at me?”
Swallowing the surge of tears, you reply, “No. Just feeling a bit rough. Had a tad too much to drink last night.”
“I could take care of you…”
You nibble your lip. It’s tempting. He’s done it before. Bought you pastries and showered you with kisses and cuddles until you got better. When he wants, Felix can be the perfect boyfriend. When he wants.
“No,” you say firmly. “What do you want, Felix?”
“Can’t you just let me in, just for a minute, babe?” His pleading inflection shatters your meek fences.
“The park. In two hours,” you concede. “I got microeconomics right now, can’t miss it.”
“Thank you. Thank you.”
He’s overjoyed. You can’t bear it anymore. You race back to the bathroom as another wave of queasiness engulfs your insides.
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Jittery steps lead you through the park as you rejoin him under an oak tree. You spent the last hour in class totally unfocused, your chest tight as you dreaded how this conversation would go.
“Felix,” you greet.
He wraps his arms around you. You remain still in his embrace, the distinctive scent of his cologne floating around you. You feel sick. Now it doesn’t remind you of Felix anymore.
“I really missed you.”
“Didn’t seem like it,” you mumble coolly.
His long exhale tickles your shoulder. “I know. I’m a wanker.”
“More like a selfish arsehole.”
His hold on you slackens as he draws back a little.
A look of hurt and shock covers his face. He isn’t used to you speaking to him so harshly. To him, you’ve only ever been sweet and forgiving. His brows crumple.
“I deserve that.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Listen I… I almost did something awful last night.”
“What thing?” You fiddle with the scarf around your neck. It’s the sole last minute resort you found to conceal the mark decorating your throat.
Of course you know exactly what thing Felix is referring to. You saw it with your own eyes, that thing. If it weren’t for that, you may not be a complete wreck today.
“Doesn’t matter, cause I stopped. It’s not who I want to be anymore.” He cups your face, warm brown gaze diving into yours. “You make me better.”
Words leave your mouth without forethought.
“Who was it this time?”
He hesitates, his jaw tensing. But beneath your heavy stare, he finally caves in.
“It was Annabel.”
“Oh.”
The knife inside your chest twists. It’s one thing to know, to have seen. It’s another to hear it confirmed from your boyfriend’s own mouth. Last night wasn’t some dragged out nightmare; it was reality. When you turn your head, Felix pivots it back to him. 
Sincerity vibrates in his tone. 
“I ended up kicking her out though.” He wipes the single tear that spills down your cheek. “All I could think about was you, the entire time.” He strokes your face. “You’re the only one for me, babe. This is the last time. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Fuck…” 
You spot something you never heard in Felix’s voice before. Fear. And instantly, you break. 
He leans his forehead against yours.
“I love you,” he states.
You’re dumbstruck. Those words have crossed Felix’s lips at least a thousand times. He’s said them to so many, even strangers…but never to you. 
He came close a few times, but never has he been this clear, firm, his meaning unmistakable. Butterflies swarm your stomach. 
“I love you,” he repeats.
Felix plants a feverish kiss on your lips, leaving them tingling when he releases you. 
“I love you too,” you whisper as your hot breaths mingle.
A sunny smile breaks out on his face.
“No more lies from now on.”
A sinking feeling spreads through you, but you ignore it, returning his smile.
“No more lies,” you echo. Guilt eats at you the second you utter the words.
Felix’s attention veers from you as he waves at someone behind you.
“Hey, Ollie,” he shouts.
The air around you plummets to a few degrees. You go still against Felix, nudging a shaky smile onto your lips.
“I need to go to class,” you chime. 
You don’t even turn around, his presence alone sending your senses into alert.
Confusion scrunches Felix’s features.
“Your next class isn’t for another hour.”
You pat his chest, willing yourself to sound more cheerful than you feel.
“Just got some studying to catch up on beforehand.”
Felix’s fingers cling to yours as you try to leave. 
“I’ll see you tonight at the pub?”
“Sure.”
He doesn’t let you go until you give him another lengthy kiss. You’re uncomfortable, the weight of a certain somebody’s stare drilling holes into your back.
Things recede to relative normalcy, in some ways better than before, and in others worse. Better because of your relationship with Felix. It improves tremendously. He dotes on you more than he ever has, showering you with gifts and small attentions.
Worse because he’s still there, his unsettling presence the dark cloud over your rekindled romance. Each time you’re forced to be around him, there’s a knowing, smug glint dancing in his eyes, a subtle smile tugging his lips skywards. Perpetual fright eclipses your happiness, all because of Oliver Quick.
What if he told Felix everything? This was a mistake and you’re fairly sure you tried to stop it. You still have nightmares about that night, the way he held you down and wrapped his hand around your neck, stealing your air and ability to defend yourself.
You were helpless. Even letting Felix touch you is hard now, the memory of what Oliver did to you seeping through the cracks whenever you expect it least.
He branded you. And while the marks on your body may have faded, the ones engraved on your soul won’t vanish so easily.
It’s a blessing when Felix finally grows bored with him. You have no idea how it occurred. You simply know that they seem stitched at the hip for months then, suddenly, Oliver is gone. Felix shows up at group meetups without him and stops mentioning him altogether.
As if he took an eraser and wiped him from existence. Just like he did to Eddie back in the day.
You’re relieved…for an ephemeral while alas.
Oliver’s dad's abrupt passing changes everything overnight. 
Once more, Felix feels the need to be Oliver’s knight in shining armor. 
And once more the two of them are inseparable. Two peas in a pod.
You elect to take some distance. While you understand that Felix wants to help him, it doesn’t mean you have to. Thankfully, with summer fastly approaching, you won’t have to bear with Oliver Quick for much longer.
As usual, James and Elspeth urged you to come spend the summer at Saltburn, particularly Elspeth who couldn’t stop gushing about what a gorgeous couple you and Felix are. And while you may have tried to decline every other year, finding his family to be an awful lot, this year is different. This year, more than ever before, you long for an escape. 
Even the pits of hell would be a suitable vacation spot if it meant not having to run across Oliver Quick for two whole months. 
It’s a thrilling prospect. These days you can’t be around Felix as much because being around him means being around Oliver, and you just can’t do it. You look forward to having your boyfriend all to yourself. All day long, you dream about lazy afternoons by the pool and cloud-gazing in the grassy fields.
These are the balmy thoughts floating through your mind as you return to your dorm that day after classes end. A carefree smile decorates your face. You can’t wait to finish packing your suitcase. You saved every penny from your part-time job to buy a new swimsuit. And while it made a small dent in your savings, imagining Felix’s face the first time he’ll see you in it makes the tiny sacrifice worth it. 
But the smile on your lips dies when you cross the door to your bedroom. Your jaw drops, the stack of books in your hands crashing to the floor with a loud thud.
“What are you doing here?” you whisper. You shrink against the door, maintaining as wide a distance as the small room allows.
Oliver doesn’t even spare you a glance, casually lying on your bed with one knee bent like it’s his.
“Your taste in books. A bit of a letdown I gotta say, luv,” he says, flipping the yellowed pages of one of your favourite novels.
You lick your lips. “Look, I’m sorry about your dad…but you can’t be here.” He doesn’t leave your bed, engulfed in his reading. Your brows knit. “Get out of my room, Oliver,” you repeat, folding your arms as you approach the bed.
His cobalt gaze finally settles on you. He places the book on the night table, slow and unhurried as he gets to his feet.
Your pulse soars as he inches closer.
“Or what? You’ll scream?” he challenges. He circles you, gauging you in a way that summons a picture of a lion stalking its prey in your head. Your blood curdles when Oliver’s breath caresses your nape. “Then you’ll have to explain what I’m doing in your room and make a scene.” His voice lowers to a taunting rasp. “Do you want to make a scene?”
Your voice comes out shaky. “What do you want?”
Oliver takes a deep breath while placing his hands on your shoulders. His thumbs trace a slow path along the column of your neck. His lips graze your earshell.
“I want you to come over here, lie on this bed and spread your legs like a good girl for me.” You suck in a sharp breath. His fingers drag down your arm as he adds, “I’m feeling…peckish.”
When you don’t move, he releases a deep sigh. 
“...Or I can tell Felix everything.”
Your heart starts hammering in your chest. “What?” you exhale, spinning to face him. 
Oliver smiles. 
“You guys are great right now. He says you’re the best you’ve ever been. No more lies. No more secrets.” Oliver bends close to you, his smile expanding. “How do you think he’ll react when I tell him that we fucked…” He pauses and you hold your breath. “And that you’ve lied to him about your family this entire year.” 
Goosebumps spread across your flesh. You stumble back, your eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. “H-How do you know about that?”
He doesn’t answer. Instead, Oliver takes small steps forward, causing you to retreat until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. He places his hands on each side of you. His  gaze traces the motion of your neck as you swallow the lump in your throat.
“I…It’s not the right time of the month right now,” you lamely offer. 
Oliver’s blue eyes rise as he sinks to his knees in front of you. Tingles bounce over your skin as he rolls your plaid skirt up your thighs.
“And you think it’s something I’m worried about?”
A moan tears from your throat when he buries two fingers inside your core without a warning.
“From now on when I tell you to spread your legs for me, you do as I say,” Oliver informs, his fingers curving inside you. You choke on your breath. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Do you understand?” The threat laced in his tone scatters ice in your veins.
“Y-Yes.”
“Yes, Oliver,” he corrects.
“Yes…Oliver,” you sputter, legs tensing as his digits reach deeper inside you.
“I’m sure it’ll be a summer to remember.”
Between uneven breaths, you stammer, “W-What do you mean?”
He strokes under your thigh absently.
“Oh didn’t Felix tell you?” He bends over you to whisper in your ear. “I’ve been invited to Saltburn, as a guest.”
When Oliver leans away, he’s smiling from ear to ear. Excitement sways in his cobalt orbs as he studies your crestfallen expression. 
“I know. I’m looking forward to it too.” 
2K notes · View notes
ellemj · 3 months
Text
Letters to Santa, Part 2: 12 Days of Smut #11
Bucky Barnes x Reader 2-Part Fic
Request/prompt courtesy of @stuckysbike. Read part 1 here.
Warnings: profanity, dirty talk, teasing, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, MINORS DNI, 18+!!!
Word Count: 3.4k
A/N: There is a scene in this that was wholly inspired by one of @littlemiss-yeehaw's latest smutty sketches, check out her blog and comment on the sketch that you think I used! This is a continuation of the request submitted by @stuckysbike, thank you again for submitting it and trusting me to give it a go! I've decided that day 12 will simply be the gift that comes tomorrow (today technically, in less than 24 hours): Needs & Wants Bonus Chapter.
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            You can’t deny that you look a little bit like a Christmas gift all wrapped up in your short little burgundy bathrobe. You’ve just finished showering and doing your skincare, and you’re flipping off the bathroom light switch when you hear the softest knock at your door. You stand still for a moment, wondering if you actually heard what you think you heard. The only person who ever comes to your door is one of the girls, and even then, they never knock, they simply let themselves in. You hear the knocking sound a second time and your feet begin carrying you away from the bathroom, across your room, and straight to the door. When you pull it open, Bucky stands before you, looking like he has a million things to say but very few words to utilize.
            “Bucky?” You say his name like you aren’t even sure it’s him, but obviously it is. His eyes are quick to coast down your figure, taking in the sight of you in that little burgundy robe with the tie around your waist fashioned into a bow. You look like a fucking gift. Someone to unwrap me like a Christmas present. The first wish from the list in your dirty letter to Santa flashes through Bucky’s mind as he memorizes every detail about the way you look right now.
            “How much did you have to drink tonight?” He asks, narrowing his eyes at you as he finally focuses his gaze on your face. You scrunch up your cheeks and nose in annoyance. You can’t believe he’d have the audacity to knock on your door and ask you something like that.
            “Why the hell are you here asking me that?”
            “Because if you had a lot to drink, then your letter to Santa ending up underneath my bedroom door might’ve just been a momentary lapse in judgement. But if you didn’t then…” Bucky lets his voice trail off as he studies your expression, looking for any answer to the countless questions he has swirling around in his head.
            “My letter? Under your door?” You ask incredulously. You immediately begin backtracking in your mind, remembering how you started cleaning up the kitchen and totally forgot about the letter you left sitting on the coffee table. One of the girls or Sam must’ve grabbed it and slid it under Bucky’s door as some stupid prank. Your face falls as you realize he very well could’ve opened it and read it. “Wait, you didn’t…” When your shocked eyes look into Bucky’s, he almost wishes he hadn’t read it.
            “So, you didn’t slide it under my door.” Bucky confirms. Why is there a hint of disappointment in his tone? Are you imagining it? Was he hoping that you had? Wait, why the fuck did he decide to knock on your door? Just to ask how much you had to drink and to find out if you gave him the letter yourself? What would he have done if it really had been you? By the time you pull yourself out of your whirlwind of thoughts, you see Bucky giving you one last look before turning on his heel to head back to his own room. All inhibitions flee as you start moving without thinking. There isn’t one thought left in your mind when you reach out and grab Bucky by the arm, stopping him in his tracks. He tenses up as soon as your hand meets the fabric of the sweatshirt that’s covering his flesh bicep, but he doesn’t pull away from you. Instead, he turns back to face you as your hand falls away from him.
            “You read it.” You say softly, not quite sure where your mouth is about to take this unexpected conversation. Bucky nods, his eyes scanning yours for any sort of reaction. “It was a joke letter, just a stupid game Nat wanted us to play.” Bucky nods again, maintaining eye contact with you as you fiddle with the bow at the front of your robe.
            “Right, I can’t imagine you’d actually want someone to cum down your chimney.” Your words written on a piece of paper were dirty, but somehow hearing them leave Bucky’s mouth makes them absolutely filthy. You can feel the blush creeping into your cheeks, turning them a soft shade of pink, as you stare up at the man with your lips slightly parted in surprise. A small smirk tugs on the corners of his lips. You don’t quite like how he’s enjoying your surprised reaction, so you decide to try and get a similar reaction out of him, just so you’ll be even.
            “Why not? It was on my list, wasn’t it? I also asked for three orgasms in one night, if I remember correctly.” Now Bucky’s the one with the parted lips and a raised eyebrow. He probably would’ve even blushed if all of the blood in his body hadn’t rushed straight to his cock. “What was the other thing I asked for?” You can’t remember what else you’d written in the letter, but now you’re sure that Bucky does. Bucky stares at you for a moment, taking in your pink cheeks, your playful gaze, and the way your arms are currently crossed over your chest as you toy with him. He decides to take the leap.
            Bucky slowly reaches out with his flesh hand, giving you every opportunity to either swat his hand away or step back and close the door on him, but you don’t. You follow his movement with your eyes, watching as his fingertips first brush over the fabric around the neck of your robe, and then begin to trail down the front of it lightly until he reaches the bow. He grabs one of the ends of the tie, his eyes flitting up to yours before he makes another move. You don’t say a word. You don’t move a muscle. You’re actually holding your breath. So, Bucky continues. He tugs on the end of the tie with just enough force to unravel the bow and loosen your bathrobe right there in the doorway of your bedroom. You’re still fully covered, but one move and the front of it may fall open and reveal your naked body to the man in front of you. Bucky reaches out with both hands now, as he takes one step forward, limiting the space between the two of you to just a few inches. He wraps his fingers around each side of the opening of your robe, holding them in place so nothing is bared to him, but wanting nothing more than to throw it open. His actions suddenly remind you of the forgotten wish on your list: someone to unwrap me like a Christmas present. Realization spreads across your face and Bucky gives you a soft smile as your eyes meet his.
            “Is this what you asked for?” He questions, rubbing his thumbs over where he holds the fabric of the robe in between his fingertips. You swallow hard and nod slowly. “I know you can use your words, just like you did in the letter.”
Fuck.
“This is one thing.” You answer softly. Bucky could stop here. He could let go of your robe and let you shut the door on him. But the way you’re looking up at him, letting your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you patiently wait for his next move, it makes it impossible for him to stop after only fulfilling one of your wishes. Besides, he hasn’t even fully unwrapped you. It wouldn’t be fair to you if he stopped now.
So, Bucky lets his instincts take over, throwing his rational mind out the window. He looks into your eyes one last time, and you can tell from the lilt in his brow and the serious expression painted on his face that he’s making sure he has your permission. The slight nod that you give him is all he needs. In one swift movement, he’s pulling you against his chest by the front of your robe. When you practically crash against him, he lets his vibranium hand rise to cup the side of your face. His eyes are the most mesmerizing blue, making it simultaneously hard to look into them yet hard to look away. Bucky can’t stop himself from placing his cool, vibranium thumb over your lips, and then dragging it down until it just barely sits between your parted lips. He wants to see how you’ll respond to his touch.
When you part your lips a little more, Bucky knows he’s done for. He won’t be going back to his room at all tonight, he fears. He watches you so closely as his thumb slides past your lips, slipping into your mouth and rubbing over the surface of your tongue as you wrap your lips around it and suck. Fuck. He wishes he’d done it with his flesh hand so he could feel your mouth. Or maybe it’s best that he used the vibranium hand, because if he felt what his vibranium thumb is experiencing right now, he might’ve ended up wanting you to suck him off, and he doesn’t remember seeing that on your Christmas list.
You let Bucky pull his finger out of your mouth with a soft pop of your lips, watching as lust floods into his gaze. In this exact moment, you just want to thank whoever it was that slipped your letter under his door. You have a feeling they did you the biggest favor.
Just a second after Bucky has removed his thumb from your mouth, you’re turning on your heel and heading back into your bedroom, trusting that he’ll follow you without a word. You hear the door click and then the sound of the lock turning just as you reach the foot of your bed. You’re just about to ask Bucky to finish unwrapping you when he’s suddenly right behind you, letting his hands slide over your hips to pull you against him as he leans down and presses his lips to the side of your neck. His mouth is so distracting that you don’t even notice what he’s doing until your robe begins falling off of your shoulders, coming to pool at your feet on the floor. In Bucky’s head, he’s mentally crossing off the first thing on your list.
“You’ll sit on my face.” Bucky says boldly, moving around you and climbing onto your bed like he’s done it a thousand times before. He positions himself on his back, with his head resting flat on your pillow, and his eyes flitting over to get a look at you. The way his gaze trails all over every inch of your naked body lights a fire inside of you, that you think may only be extinguished by riding an orgasm out on his face. So, you don’t question him or second-guess yourself. You do exactly as he wants, carefully positioning yourself to straddle his face. He was planning to take it slow, figure out what you like and what you don’t like, drag you up the hill to your first orgasm slowly. But as soon as he saw your glistening cunt, hovering mere inches above his face, he couldn’t keep himself from gripping your thighs and pulling you down hard. His tongue made contact with your entrance first, and he dove into it with a fiery passion, first dragging his tongue around it in circles, teasing you effortlessly. When you felt the first dip of his tongue inside you, your hands flew to the wooden headboard, holding onto it so tightly that you worried it might splinter.
“Bucky, oh my god.” You moan, letting your right hand float down to tangle in his hair as he licks a line from your entrance, through your folds, and straight to your clit. When he finally starts licking and sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves there, you know you won’t last long like this. Moans and whimpers start falling from your lips freely, spurring Bucky on and encouraging him to hold you in place as he works you closer and closer to the edge. “I’m going to cum.”
Bucky almost laughs against your clit, but he controls himself and continues sucking and swirling his tongue right where you need it most. He almost laughed because of how fucking easy it was to get you on the verge of cumming for him. He knew he was good at this, but he didn’t know you’d be so ready and willing for him to please you. When you go tumbling over the edge, waves of pleasure rock through you so hard that you nearly put all of your weight on Bucky’s face. Truthfully, he would’ve welcomed it, but he also has other plans that he wants to carry out.
As you hover above Bucky, catching your breath and trying to calm your trembling thighs, Bucky places a soft kiss against your clit before sliding his hands up to your waist and helping you move to lay on your back next to him.
“That was number one.” He whispers, crawling over you and pressing his lips against your jawline. He lets the tip of his tongue slide over your cheek teasingly, and when he nears your lips, you can nearly taste yourself on him. He uses his knee to nudge your legs apart while continuing his ministrations along your jaw and neck, drawing soft exhales from you with ease.
“Let me catch my breath first.” You laugh lightly. Bucky’s fingers are already diving between your legs, gently slipping back and forth over your folds as he gathers your wetness and spreads it around.
“That wasn’t something you put on the list, catching your breath after any of the three orgasms.” Bucky points out, focusing the pads of his middle and ring fingers over your already overly-sensitive clit and applying a light pressure. “I think you can handle this.” He coos. Fuck. Your back is already arching, causing your tits to press against his still-clothed chest. You start to wonder why the hell he still has his clothes on, but your train of thought is immediately derailed when you feel his middle finger slip inside of you without a warning. It’s been so long since anyone has done this to you, and even since you’ve taken the time to do it to yourself, so the stretch that you feel gives you a stinging pain that causes you to draw in a sharp breath and tighten around his fingertip. “Oh, you’re so fucking tight. How are you going to be able to take my cock, huh baby?” You aren’t sure what gets the loudest moan out of you, his finger plunging into you as far as he can send it or his words. He plans to fuck you.
“I’ll take it.” You promise, not even thinking about what you’re promising. Bucky chuckles lowly before pulling his finger out of you and shoving it back in, beginning to fuck you with it over and over again.
“You’ll take it.” Bucky agrees, adding a second finger as he looks down into your eyes and watches the way your teeth once again sink into your bottom lip. “You’ll take it if you want that last thing on your list.”
Bucky Barnes promising to cum inside of you is the very last thing you expected to get for Christmas. It’s only a couple of minutes later when he’s thrusting his two fingers in and out of you in such a coordinated manner that you’re seconds from another orgasm. Bucky curling his fingers inside of you is what sends you careening over the edge, your second orgasm crashing in so hard that you reach down and grasp Bucky’s hand, holding it still as you roll your hips, riding your high out on his fingers yourself. He’s in awe of you. He’s in awe of every little movement, every little sound, everything you do as you cum for him.
“That’s number two.” Bucky whispers against your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your smooth skin as you finally release his hand and let him slide his fingers out of you. As soon as your breathing begins to slow back to a normal rate, Bucky is pushing himself off of the bed and pulling his sweatshirt over his head. You prop yourself up on your elbows, taking in the curve of his shoulders, the soft scars where vibranium meets skin, and the heaving of his chest. When he pushes off his sweats and boxers, letting his cock spring free from its confines and finally stand fully on display for you, your mouth falls open. “Remember, you said you’d take it.” Bucky reminds you, wrapping his hand around the impressive length and stroking it slowly as he crawls back over you on the bed. “Turn over.”
Once he has you laying on your stomach, he leans down over you, letting his warm chest press against your bare back. You feel his hard cock resting against your ass as he inhales the sweet scent of your shampoo, closing his eyes and wondering to himself if you’ve always smelled this damn good. The next few seconds are both a blur and seemingly happening in slow motion as Bucky guides you to slide your knees underneath you and raise your ass up for him. Feeling the head of his cock brush against your entrance has you seeing stars, not even from pleasure, but from anticipation and pure adrenaline coursing through your veins.
“Bucky, please.” You moan, pushing your ass against his length, begging for him to fuck you already. He chuckles lowly once again but obliges, rubbing the tip of his cock back and forth through the wetness coating your folds a few more times before finally slotting his cock into you. You feel every inch as it disappears inside you. You feel it move in the slightest every time Bucky so much as takes a breath. He buries himself to the hilt and then stills, his breath fanning across your neck as you bury your face in your pillow. The grunt that rumbles past his lips sends a rush of heat through your body, traveling straight to your cunt, which then flutters around his shaft.
“Oh, fuck, baby.” He groans out, squeezing his eyes shut and dragging his cock out of you slowly. When he thrusts it back in a second later, he can’t bear to stop again. He starts fucking you so hard that you can’t do a damn thing besides moaning out his name and gripping the bedsheets with both hands. It’s a sight Bucky vows never to forget. “This is what you wanted for Christmas, huh? Is this what you wanted?”
“Yes! God, yes, Bucky.” He loves the way you sound when you’re at his mercy like this. He picks up the pace of the snapping of his hips, watching as your knuckles turn nearly as white as the sheets he’s fucking you on.
“That’s it, take my fucking cock just like that.” Never in your wildest dreams could you have conjured up with a dirty talking Bucky Barnes. He’s filthy. He continues thrusting into you, over and over, relishing in the feeling of your pussy pulling him back in every time he tries to pull out. “You’re going to let me cum inside of you, aren’t you? That’s what you want for Christmas.”
“Yes, please. Fuck, don’t pull out.”
“Good girl, that’s it baby.”  Just a few more thrusts from Bucky have you fighting to hold back your orgasm, and he can tell. “Don’t fucking keep it from me, let it go.” He demands, gripping your hips and pounding you into the mattress. Your third orgasm of the night begins with his cock fully seated inside of you. He fucks you through it, chasing his own high as he listens to the dirtiest sounds fall from your parted lips. “Fuck, I’m cumming.” He says the words only half a second before he starts filling you up, fucking his cum in as deep as he possibly can.
A couple of minutes later, Bucky is still laying on top of you, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder and neck as you enjoy the warmth and closeness he offers.
“That was number three.” He whispers, letting his lips ghost over your skin.
“Thank you, Santa.”
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